Four States, One Journey
by strengthsbasedmediocrity
Summary: Life throws so many things at you that you don't expect. Rejection. Addiction. Doubt. Divorce. But maybe, with the right people in your life, it can still be greater than you ever imagined. Chronicles of the characters' lives post-Uganda. Gradual McPriceley, Arnold/Nabulungi. UPDATED - Chapter 10: Inadvertent Double Date Night
1. Part One, Chapter 1

**FOUR STATES, ONE JOURNEY**

_Summary: _Life throws so many things at you that you don't expect. Rejection. Addiction. Doubt. Divorce. But maybe, with the right people in your life, it can still be greater than you ever imagined. Chronicles of the characters' lives post-Uganda (may include some trigger-type themes such as depression in later chapters; warning will be posted).

_Pairings:_ Eventual McPriceley, Arnold/Nabulungi

_Disclaimer: _I don't own _The Book of Mormon_ or any of its characters.

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><p><strong>PART ONE: OGDEN, UTAH<strong>

**_College, Summer Before Freshman Year_**

**Chapter One: College Request Denied**

Ever since Kevin Price returned from his mission, things had been awkward, to say the least.

He'd seen it coming, and had been quick to do what he could to make his transition back to the States as seamless as possible. Deactivating his Facebook page so he wouldn't have to face the countless messages asking what had happened and wondering why he wouldn't be going to church anymore, ducking in to Internet cafes while proselytizing in the bigger villages to submit college applications (he'd made it perfectly clear to his parents that his plans had changed and he wouldn't be attending BYU next fall), mailing his grandmother a Mother's Day card so she wouldn't be _too_ terribly disappointed in him. But anticipation and experience are two very different things. No matter how many times in he'd emailed his parents to explain that no, he didn't consider their new mission to be a cult, and yes, he did actually think they were helping a lot of people out, and no, he didn't acquire some weird African disease that messed with his brain, he still found himself repeating these very things the entire duration of the drive from the Salt Lake City airport to his family's home in Ogden. Then there was his extended family, which was a whole other matter altogether.

Sometimes Kevin wished he could get a little more credit. It was hard, growing up in a rigid family with high expectations. Admitting those expectations no longer matched your goals was even harder. As much as he'd missed his family while he was away, he was counting down the days until he'd be off to college—where he wouldn't have to face the disappointed looks, disapproving sighs, or the clunky attempts to corner him for the same tired conversation. Like the situation he was facing now, for instance. Mr. and Mrs. Price had whisked him away to dinner ("Just the three of us. We have some catching up to do," Mr. Price had said), and now he sat awkwardly in his plastic chair across from his parents, the restaurant's florescent lighting casting a sickly glow over the food on his paper plate.

Mr. Price cleared his throat and clasped his hands enthusiastically. "This is nice, isn't it? Spending time with our boy after two years; having a good meal at a good price."

"Um, sure, it's great." Kevin had always assumed his parents' obsession with Kentucky Fried Chicken came from the fact that one could buy entire buckets of food there on a budget, a necessity for a family with six children. But no, apparently they ate there even when a mere fraction of the family was present.

"So Kevin, dear," Mrs. Price smiled tightly, clearly skirting around something. "You must be happy to be back home, right? Much more comfortable than that hut you were living in."

"I do like A/C and running water," Kevin chuckled. "I miss everyone, though." With Arnold less than an hour away in Salt Lake, the two still met on a regular basis. And thanks to no small amount of research on Kevin's and Elder McKinley's part, Nabulungi was able to acquire a visa to obtain her GED. But still, nothing could replace the camaraderie they experienced in Uganda, those nights when everyone, missionaries and villagers alike, would pitch in to prepare dinner and then crowd around the tiny dining room at missionary headquarters, laughing and exchanging new ideas for the church as they passed dishes back and forth. Kevin felt a twinge of sadness and decided to change the subject.

"Oh, guess what? I signed up for my orientation session at Johns Hopkins University!" he said, immediately brightening with anticipation. "It starts on the eighteenth. That works, right? We'll have to figure out plane tickets—unless you think we should make it a road trip, but I'll be moving in next month so we might as well just fly this time around…" He trailed off when he noticed the expressions on his parent's faces. Mr. and Mrs. Price were silent for a long moment, exchanging glances between each other.

"Sweetie," Mrs. Price finally began. "It's just, well..." she turned to her husband for assistance.

"What?" Kevin cut in, a sinking feeling forming in his gut.

"Your mother and I don't want you going all the way to Maryland this fall," Mr. Price finished. "Not after you failed your mission."

"For the thousandth time, I didn't _**fail**_ my mission. And I don't understand. I have to go to Maryland, that's where the school is. I'm all set to go; I'm picking out my classes in two weeks!"

"We understand you were excited, but we'd rather have you closer to home, given what's happened," Mrs. Price said. "And of course BYU has some wonderful programs—"

"I am _**not **_going to BYU," Kevin snapped. "I know I used to say I would, but it's not happening anymore. I've told you that. Besides, do you honestly think they'd take me now?"

Mr. Price bit into a drumstick. "Well you're already a student at Weber State."

"Only because I took dual credit there in high school." No, no way. Not Weber State University. Anything but the school with a 100% acceptance rate he'd grown up practically down the street from; the one so many average students in Ogden attended without a second thought. "Mom, Dad, please. I_** have**_ to go to Johns Hopkins. I want to be a doctor, you know that. I want to help people. They have the best internal medicine program in the country, and it's really competitive, but if I'm already there for undergrad my application will be that much stronger—"

"Oh honey, don't worry about not getting in," said Mrs. Price. "You're so talented and smart, you can go anywhere you want for medical school."

"After you do four years of undergrad at Weber State," Mr. Price clarified.

"Wait, I..." The reality of the situation still hadn't fully registered. Kevin had been expecting any number of difficult experiences this evening. Another lecture about his newfound coffee habit, continued pleas to come back to church, more not-so-subtle hints that Bishop Morrison's daughter Clarissa was such a good girl and definitely interested and wouldn't she and Kevin make such cute couple? But not _**this**_. "Are you serious?! You took me to KFC to tell me I can't go to college? Really? At _**KFC**_?"

"No, no, sweetie, you can go to college," Mrs. Price quickly replied. "Just not _**away **_to college."

"And not to the college of your choice," Mr. Price clarified.

Kevin was on the verge of panic now. "I can't believe this is happening. You waited until _**now **_to tell me this?!"

"Calm down, son. We don't want you throwing a fit; that's why we took you out in public."

"And we would've liked to talk to you sooner, dear, but you didn't give us much choice. You've been so stubborn since you got back—you won't go to church, you skipped the family reunion, and then there's the coffee—"

"There's nothing wrong with coffee, Mom."

"It's a gateway drug, Kevin!" she snapped. "One day you're drinking coffee, and the next you're living in a Motel 6 doing dirty things to other men for crack cocaine!"

"And we don't want that to happen to you, son."

Kevin gave them an incredulous look for one long moment. "Okay," he said slowly. "What if I promise to not become a prostitute or crack addict? Then can I go to college in Maryland?"

"No," they replied in unison.

"You can't make me go to Weber State!" Kevin crossed his arms and faced the two of them with his best glare. "I'm an adult, I can study where I want."

Mrs. Price wilted slightly under his gaze, fidgeting slightly. However, Mr. Price leaned forward and matched Kevin's determined expression with one of his own. "Not if you're hoping for financial assistance from us."

"I have a scholarship."

"Which only covers a portion of your costs. You're a smart kid; you know how much tuition and housing cost on the east coast. And if you're going to med school, you'll have enough debt as it is."

Kevin's first instinct was to tell them fine, he didn't need their help, he'd take out loans to cover the difference and just be in debt forever if it meant living his own life, thank you very much. But the logical part of his brain was already calculating the cost. Forty-something in tuition plus—what was it, eleven thousand?—in room and board minus his scholarship times four years was...way more than he felt comfortable paying on top of medical school bills. This realization, along with the finality in his dad's voice, drained away pretty much any fight within him.

"So that's it, then," he said flatly, slumping back in his chair with his arms still crossed. "You're actually gonna take away my college fund if I don't do what you say."

"Oh Kevin, don't be sad," Mrs. Price cooed. "Weber State is a great school! This is a good thing. It'll give you some time to get your focus back, and bring yourself closer to Heavenly Father again."

"We're not gonna make you stay with us," Mr. Price added. "You can live on campus, so long as you visit every week for church and family home evening. And you_** will **_start attending church again; I don't want to hear any more excuses from you, young man."

"And you can live with your little friend Arnold! Didn't you say he was going to college here? You two can get a dorm room together. Won't that be fun? Just don't go starting any more cults!" Mrs. Price smiled and patted Kevin's hand before turning back to his father. "Gerald, dear, we should get a bucket to take home to the others or they'll be upset. Do you need a box, Kevin, hon? You've hardly touched your dinner."

Kevin didn't respond, staring straight through his now cold chicken and mashed potatoes. Forty-seven days. Up until this evening that block of time was the only thing holding him back from escaping the household and town that now felt so foreign to him, from getting a fresh start somewhere completely new. A place where he could continue to grow the way he had in Uganda and start to become the Kevin Price he wanted to be—someone who helps people and has his life together and accomplishes every goal he sets for himself. He opened his mouth to say something, anything that could show just how crushed he felt right now. Yet even with all the thoughts now running through his head, he couldn't find the words.

He finally settled with one simple, deflated sentence. "I'm not hungry."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading; please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Freshman Year, Fall Semester**_

**Chapter Two: A Great Day to be a Wildcat**

"Welcome to Weber State University!" The girl at the Residence Life check-in desk flashed Kevin a smile so bright it put even his own pearly whites to shame. "It's a great day to be a wildcat. Can I get your name?"

Though Kevin still couldn't quite believe he was here, no amount of pleading over the weeks (and no one could say he hadn't tried) would change his parents' minds. Kevin had barely gotten the requested information out to the girl when he heard a shout of "BEST FRIEND!" from behind him and was promptly engulfed in Arnold's tight hug. "Kevin, buddy, you're here! I haven't seen you in so long! Like, three whole weeks!"

"Hey, I missed you too, Arn," Kevin chuckled, giving him a pat on the back and trying to extricate himself from Arnold's vice-like grip.

"I still can't believe you're here; how awesome is that?! At first, when I thought you were moving across the country, I was like, aww, my best friend's leaving me. But then you called and I was like, oh yeah, now he's not!"

Two years ago, Arnold's clinginess and excessive enthusiasm would've annoyed Kevin beyond belief. Now, though, he gave his friend a warm smile; at least someone could be happy about the situation. "I have to finish checking in, Arnold."

"Oh! Oh yeah, I gotta check in, too." Arnold looked over to the girl. "I'm Arnold Cunningham, his roommate. Can you believe it, Kev? We get to be roomies again!"

"Welcome to Weber State, Arnold. It's a great day to be a wildcat." She marked his name off the roster. "You two are on the third floor, so head on up there and your RA Cody will get you taken care of. Here's your lanyard, bumper sticker, mug, and planner. Can I get your shirt sizes?"

Arnold turned to Kevin in glee. "I love college. Look at all this free stuff we get! You're right, lady; it_** is **_a great day to be a wildcat!"

She laughed. "I still need your shirt sizes."

"Medium, thanks," Kevin said.

"And I need extra large—no, extra-extra large, just in case. Better too big than too small, right? And he's probably not gonna wear his, so give him extra-extra large, too. That way I get two shirts. No wait, Naba might want one. Give him small."

After receiving their mugs full of freebies, a viable tent, and a piece of shirt-shaped fabric roughly the size of a washcloth, the two started toward the elevators.

"Oh man, this is it, we're actually moving in to college!" Arnold was bouncing with excitement as they stepped onto the lift. What d'you think our room's gonna be like? Probably better than the one in Uganda—oh boy, I hope we get bunk beds! I wasn't really paying attention at orientation, so I don't know the layout."

"Don't get too excited; it's just a dorm room. Didn't you ever go to camp?"

"Connor says they're called residence halls, not dorms. Hey, I forgot to tell him you were coming here! Did you tell him you were coming here?"

"I haven't really talked to him recently," Kevin said as the elevator doors opened onto the fourth floor. Funny how he could go months without speaking to his former district leader, yet the prospect of seeing him again produced a weird, inexplicable flip of excitement in his stomach. He squashed down the memories of their last meeting, just like he had been doing all summer, and tried to sound nonchalant. "So he decided to enroll here, then? I knew he applied."

"Yeah! Poptarts too, but he's living at home. So now we're all here! And to think, you were gonna be all the way on the east coast at Harvard—"

"Johns Hopkins," Kevin corrected.

"Who's John Hopkins? Your advisor?"

"It's a place, not a person. Johns Hopkins University, the college I was going to. Not Harvard. Remember?"

"Never heard of it. Should've stuck with Harvard, buddy."

Kevin was about to ask how Arnold had never heard of a school the other had talked about nonstop since he'd been accepted, but then thought better of it and headed toward the RA's open door.

* * *

><p>"Do you think my roommate likes me?" Connor McKinley as he hung up the last of his clothes.<p>

Nabulungi took a seat on his newly made bed. "Do you mean _**likes you **_likes you? No, definitely not."

"No, I mean that he's slightly terrifying, and do you think I'll be spared if and when he inevitably ransacks the floor?"

"Oh, I see. You'll probably be okay, but it's too soon to tell."

"Eh, I'll take it." Connor took a step back and surveyed his new living space. "Okay, I think that's everything! I mean, I should probably put a few things up on the walls, but honestly I can't be bothered right now. Thanks for helping me out, Naba."

"It was no problem; I was happy to help. I miss seeing you every day."

"I know, it's been way too long. Promise me you'll come up from Salt Lake to visit on the weekends."

Naba laughed. "Of course. It'll be weird living with Arnold's parents without him in the house. I can't wait until I get my GED and can join you boys here. This is a nice college."

Connor shrugged. "I like it." Not that he had much choice in where he went. Once he came out to his parents he was swiftly disowned, losing any college savings they had for him in the process. Luckily he was able to secure a decent enough financial aid package, and his former mission companion, Christopher Thomas, had agreed to let him stay with his family fifteen minutes away in Layton over summers and holiday breaks. It wasn't quite enough to make up for the fact that he essentially didn't have a family anymore, but it helped, and he didn't like dwelling on the unfortunate situation. "We should probably track Arnold down. Is he in this hall?"

"I'm not sure. I will text him," Naba replied. She pulled out her phone (a much-appreciated gift from the Cunninghams) and then continued, "I doubt he even knows, actually. I left him with his parents and figured he'd run into Kevin at some point."

Connor was in the middle of digging around for his keys, but stopped abruptly at her words. "Wait," he said, spinning around to face her. "Kevin's here? When did that happen?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "You didn't know? They're roommates."

"Since when? I thought he was going to—was it Georgetown?"

"Some fancy school in Ohio, I think," Naba shrugged. "But his parents wanted to keep an eye on him and said he had to stay here."

"That's a shame. He must be devastated."

"He was upset, yes. I figured he would have told you."

Connor shook his head. He hadn't heard from Kevin since their last 24 hours in Uganda, when several of the elders decided to sample the assortment of beer at the village's going-away party. In his drunken state, Kevin had whisked him away from the crowd and, much to Connor's surprise, kissed him with fierce urgency. The excitement was short-lived, however; though he didn't outright ignore Connor the next day, Kevin clearly avoided him the entire trip back to the States.

The obnoxious sound of Naba's phone jerked him out of his reverie—much to the disdain of everyone around her, she took great delight in the variety of ringtones available and felt compelled to try them all. She briefly scanned the message before hopping up off the bed and starting for the door. "They're here, on the third floor," she said. "Let's go see them."

She hovered in the open doorway, waiting for him to follow. "Come on," she said, grinning at his hesitance. "Be excited, you get to see your _**boyfriend**_ again." Though Connor hadn't told her about the party incident, she'd long ago picked up on his crush.

"He's not my boyfriend," Connor feigned annoyance, snatching up his keys and giving her playful shove when she laughed. "And he never will be." Whatever motivation Kevin had for his avoidance, be it an inability to come to terms with hidden feelings or mere embarrassment that he'd kissed Connor in a drunken state of stupidity, Connor wasn't going to mess with it. He was through hiding, after all.

They pushed open the door to the stairwell. "Arnold's going to hate climbing up these stairs," Naba remarked as they began the trek from the first to the third floor.

"There's an elevator. It's bound to break at some point, though. They always do."

When they reached the third floor hallway they heard Arnold before they saw either of the two, his loud, excited voice making it clear which of the many open doors led to their room.

"Okay, okay, I've got it!" he was saying. "Why don't we shove the beds together to make one big bed? Then we can turn that side of the room into a blanket fort."

"We are not making one big bed, Arnold."

"But why not? We'll have a blanket fort!"

"Because I want my own bed, that's why."

Connor and Naba reached the doorway just in time to see Arnold throwing up his hands in frustration. "You always do this! I have really good ideas and you just shoot them down. Why you gotta dull my sparkle?"

"Nobody can dull your sparkle." Naba reached behind him to give him a hug.

"Oh, hey guys," Arnold said cheerfully. "And _**he**_ did! Look at how boring this room is; just look at it!"

"It's fine," Kevin sighed.

"You only think it's fine because you have a simple mind."

"Look, it won't be so plain after you get all your stuff up, and—wait, did you just call me stupid?"

"Not stupid, just basic. So you almost went to Carnegie Mellon, big whoop. Doesn't mean you can think outside the box. Seriously, we've gotta do something about this room. I can't believe it didn't even have bunk beds!"

Connor cleared his throat. "You know, if you want the beds bunked, all you have to do is..." He trailed off at Kevin's hasty _don't tell him_ gesture.

"You can worry about where to put the furniture later," Naba laughed and moved a box aside to sit on Arnold's desk chair. "I'm sorry about your fancy school, Kevin, but I'm so happy you're here! I was going to miss you."

Kevin grinned (goodness, Connor loved that grin) and said, "Aw, I would've missed you too, Naba."

A tense silence followed, with both Arnold and Naba clearly waiting for Kevin and Connor to acknowledge each other while each of the two men waited for the other to take initiative. Connor finally decided to start. "It's great to see you again, Kevin," he chirped, just as Kevin spoke up, cheerful tone a bit too exaggerated, with "So Connor, how's it going?"

Both awkwardly laughed, and Connor found it difficult to look Kevin in the eye, so he settled with nervously scratching the back of his neck and focusing on one of the bedposts. "I'm good," he said. "Excellent, really. You look great. I mean, you know," he coughed. "Healthy."

"Um, yeah, thanks. You look…healthy, too," Kevin replied, and damn it, why couldn't they both have held their liquor and kept to themselves that night? It didn't matter to Connor how good how good Kevin's lips had felt against his own; he'd gladly give that up just to end the tension they were facing now.

* * *

><p>Arnold guessed he should be confused right now. He figured that, like Naba who was quizzically glancing between Kevin and Connor, he should be wondering why the two were sloppily stumbling through their conversation. But no, he knew exactly what was going on. They thought he didn't know, because Arnold had been clever and covered his tracks, but oh yes, he was indeed aware.<p>

It all started during their last night in Uganda, when the villagers threw a totally awesome going-away party for Naba and the departing missionaries. After only one sip of beer, Arnold decided that alcohol was disgusting and declined any more. Kevin had done the same until Mutumbo began teasing him about being unable to handle it, and then his competitive side kicked in. It wasn't long until he was completely wasted, laughing loudly at everything being said and taking over the karaoke machine, his highlight of the evening being an off-key rendition of Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now," with Kevin enthusiastically shrieking out the female vocals while the General hesitantly mumbled the male part alongside him.

Once that tragic display was over, however, Kevin disappeared. Arnold—who, by the way, was thoroughly enjoying the shitshow and proud to add this to the short list of times _**he**_ was the one better put together—waited a few minutes before excusing himself from the festivities to track down his companion.

"Best friend?" he called as soon as he'd stepped outside the giant tent they'd pitched for the occasion. When he got no response, he ventured out a bit further.

He was just rounding a patch of shrubbery when he spotted Kevin with his back against Gotswana's empty hut. Only he wasn't alone; standing in front of him was his district leader, in very close proximity with their lips locked, Connor combing his fingers through Kevin's hair and Kevin resting one hand on Connor's waist and gripping Connor's tie with the other.

Arnold quickly ducked back out of sight unnoticed, his mind full of questions. Did this mean Kevin was gay, or was he just that drunk? What if Connor had been his boyfriend this whole time and he hadn't even told Arnold? Did Kevin not trust him enough? But they were supposed to be friends, weren't they?

Regardless of the reason, they clearly didn't want to be seen, not by Arnold or anyone else. Oh no, Arnold wondered, what if someone else came looking for them—or came looking for _**him**_? An idea struck him, and he took a few steps back. "Elder Price!" he called out, feeling quite clever. "Best friend, where are you? Elder Price?"

When he rounded the shrubbery once more, the two were separated, Kevin still leaning against the hut with uncharacteristically disheveled hair while Connor discreetly straightened his tie. "Oh, hello, Elder," Connor said brightly when he spotted Arnold. "Elder Price and I were just…having a little chat."

At that, Kevin dissolved into a fit of giggles and slid down to the ground. "Having a chat," he slurred. "Hey, hey, Arnold—hey, that was a TV show!" Another eruption of laugher burst from his lips. "I love Uganda, and I love you both so much, and I never wanna go home. I wanna stay here forever and ever all my life, and then I wanna go to Orlando and stay _**there**_ forever and ever all my life." He squinted up at both of them from his seated position. "You guys are so tall. Hey, let's call Dominos and order a pizza! I want pepperoni and pineapple; that's just really what I want right now."

Needless to say, Kevin was so hung-over the next morning that it took all of his strength just to pull himself out of bed and onto the bus. By the time they'd reached the airport and he'd had a chance to recover a bit, Arnold had a much firmer grasp of the situation. The fact that Kevin went out of his way to sit on the opposite end of the plane from their district leader combined with their brief but awkward farewell at the SLC airport—complete with blundering handshakes and an insincere "Keep in touch!" on Kevin's part—proved that this was indeed the first time such an incident had occurred. Only one question remained: was Kevin simply mortified by his drunken antics, or was he burying feelings he wasn't ready to face?

Either way, Arnold wished he'd gotten over it by now. They were in college to have fun, dang it, and they couldn't do that if Kevin and Connor could barely even speak to each other. "Okay!" he said now, hopping up and breaking the silence that had settled in their room. "I'm hungry, is everyone else hungry? Let's find my folks and get some food!"

"We still have to unpack," Kevin pointed out. "And I have to make another trip back home to grab the rest of my stuff."

"We have all year to unpack and get your stuff and build our blanket fort! Come on, you heard that lady back there; it's a great day to be a wildcat. Now let's go!"

He started for the door with the others in tow, ignoring Kevin's "We are _**not**_ taking all year" behind him.

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><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! Ya'll rock. Now then, on to the story :)**

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><p><em><strong>Freshman Year, Fall Semester<strong>_

**Chapter Three: Three Calculi**

"College is awesome," Arnold said as he happily flopped down on his bed. "I only had three classes today. I didn't have to go in until 10, and now it's four and I'm done with everything! How cool is that?"

Kevin didn't look up from his biology textbook.

"Kevin! I _**said**_, how cool is that?"

"Fantastic." He ran his highlighter across the page.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Kevin finally sighed and looked up. "Look, sorry Arn, but I have two problem sets for Calc II and fifty pages to read by Wednesday. Didn't your teachers give you any homework?"

"Wait," Arnold frowned. "Why are you in Calc II; you're only a—wait, there's _**two **_calculuses!?"

"I took Calc I for credit in high school, and there's three, actually."

"THREE CALCULUSES!?"

"Relax, you don't have to take any of them unless you're a math or science major."

"Oh good, you had me worried, buddy. And you're actually doing the reading? See, I'm not actually doing the reading."

"Of course I am!" Kevin looked up at Arnold in alarm. "They wouldn't have assigned it if it wasn't important. You should really be keeping up with it, too. You're in Bio as well, right? There are a lot of important concepts in here."

"Yeah but I'm in the dumb one, so no big deal."

"It's not the dumb one, it's the one for non-science—oh why do I bother; you didn't even read the Book of Mormon for your mission."

"And it turns out I didn't have to, remember? You probably don't have to do half the stuff you freak out over. C'mon, try having some fun. Oh, I know, you can come with me to gaming club tonight."

Kevin sighed. "Arnold, I need to study. I need a perfect GPA so that I can get into med school at Johns Hopkins, and then get a stellar residency and become a doctor in Orlando, buy a house, get married, have three kids and two dogs, and finally get my life back on track. How exactly is gaming club supposed to help me with any of that?"

"I told you, it's fun! You're gonna explode if you do all that without having any fun." When Kevin's gaze didn't waver, Arnold supplemented his comment with an explosive hand gesture. "Boom. Just like that."

"I'm going to the library." Kevin capped his highlighter and gathered up all his materials in his messenger bag. As he walked out the door, he heard Arnold call out, "Okay, but we're doing something fun when you get back!"

* * *

><p>The library was relatively empty, since most students elected to take it easy the first day of classes. Kevin chose an isolated table in the corner and made himself comfortable, laying his notebook and textbook in front of him. He has just gotten back into his groove when he heard the soft scrape of chair legs against carpet and another figure took a seat at his table. He looked up to see Connor sitting across from him, a no-nonsense expression on his face.<p>

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

Kevin shifted uncomfortably. "I've, uh, been busy," he said. _Don't stare at his mouth; what's wrong with you, _he chastised himself. "How were your classes?"

"They were fine. Don't change the subject."

"Look, I really need to read this—"

"It can wait a few minutes. No one else is here, so talk to me. You kissed me in Uganda. Why?"

Connor was right, there was no one else in earshot. Still, Kevin furtively glanced around them before hissing, "Do we really have to do this now?"

"We do."

"Fine, then. Isn't it obvious? I was drunk. So were you, I think."

Connor leaned back and eyed him for several seconds before he spoke. "Because you were drunk," he repeated. "Is that all?"

_Maybe. Not really. I don't know. _"Yes."

Connor finally broke eye contact with him, and Kevin quickly continued with, "I'm sorry if you thought there was something else. But I'm straight, you know that."

"Of course I do." The bitterness in his voice made Kevin cringe. Connor must have caught that, because he quickly composed himself. "Well then, now that we've cleared that up, are we okay? We _**do**_ go to the same college and share a set of friends, after all. We can't avoid each other forever."

"I…" Kevin bit his lip and looked away. "Sure."

"Why are you hesitating? So you got drunk and made out with another man. Get over it. No one knows but us, and if I can live with it then so can you."

Kevin sighed. "I'm just dealing with a lot right now, okay? Look, don't take this the wrong way; you're a great guy. But it's not like I was expecting to see you again anytime soon—honestly, I'd actually managed to block that night from my memory until now." Mostly, anyway. "Do you have any idea what my parents would say if they found out about it? They've already stuck one fat roadblock in front of my dreams."

The look Connor was giving him now was far from understanding, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised in disdain. "Well at least you still _**have**_ parents," he spat. "And siblings, and a house and your pets and everything else you so clearly take for granted. You know what I have? A couple boxes my sisters mailed me and my bank account. Heck, I even had to close that and reopen it with another bank just to make sure my parents wouldn't pull it, too. I had to use student loans for a down payment on another car because the one I use to have was in their name. And the worst part is that I don't even really care about those things. I just want to see my family again, and it's not happening any time soon, if ever. So forgive me if I'm less than sympathetic to your little predicament."

There was a long, tense silence, with Kevin unsure how to respond, before Connor sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was out of line. I know how hard you worked to get into Georgetown."

"Johns Hopkins," Kevin corrected automatically. "And no, you're right. I think it's awful what your family did to you. I can't even imagine what that's like."

"Yes, well," Connor smiled tightly. "When people fork over the cash to send their kid to pray-away-the-gay camp, they get real upset when it doesn't work."

"Wait, they actually sent you to one of those places?"

"When I was younger, yeah. A couple times, actually. But I don't like getting into the details."

"Right." That was understandable. "Well, uh…I really have to finish reading."

"I'll leave you to it." Connor stood up and smiled. "See you at dinner?"

"Of course." Kevin tried to focus once more on his reading after Connor left, he really did. But his mind kept wondering back to that moment, and he caught himself unconsciously running a finger along his bottom lip as he remembered the feeling of Connor's mouth moving against his own. He let out a sigh and lowered his head, his forehead falling against the book with a thunk. Why did this have to be so difficult?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Freshman Year, Fall Semester**_

**Chapter Four: Cool Kids Go To Major Fest**

"All righty, you two," Connor called out cheerfully, knocking on Kevin and Arnold's open door before stepping inside and waving a bright flyer with an excited grin. "I have something I need you to attend."

"Major Fest?" Kevin asked, frowning as he took the flyer from Connor.

"They're setting up space in the union to advertise every major on campus! Isn't that exciting?"

"I already know my major. So do you."

"I know, I know, but my comp teacher's giving us extra credit if we attend. Oh, and Arnold, since you're undecided, I thought you might find it useful."

"Yeah. Can't make it, sorry," Arnold said, eyes glued to the television and Xbox controller in hand. "I'm busy during that time."

Connor smiled tightly. "You don't even know when it is," he said.

"Yeah…probably busy, though."

"And why should I have to go?" Kevin asked. "I have enough going on as it is."

"Because, Kevin, there's still a lot you could gain," he countered. "Every academic department on campus is going to be there. You could learn about a program you didn't even know existed. And all of the student resources are gonna be represented, too. There's the Writing Center, academic advising, student involvement, career services—"

"Are they giving you extra credit to promote it, too?" Kevin cut him off, eyebrows raised.

"No, I just think it's a great opportunity. Look at how much effort they've put into this! I love college, don't you?"

"Sure," Arnold said dryly. "That's exactly why I love college. Because of Major Fest and academic advising."

"He's right, Arn, you should really go," Kevin pointed out. "You need to pick out a major."

"Hey!" Arnold finally tore his eyes away from the screen. "He said you should go, too. Oh shoot—" he winced as his character was sliced in half. "Whoops. But yeah, if he's right about me then he's right about you, too."

Kevin quickly wracked his brain. "Um, that's…not necessarily true," he said. "Like I said, I already know my major _**and**_ my career. I've also already met with my advisor even though most people haven't even scheduled their appointments yet, and I don't need the Writing Center because I'm a great writer."

"What about study abroad?" Connor asked. "Did you know a lot of programs have national trips as well? You could go to Orlando."

Kevin perked up at that. "Really?"

"Yep." Connor's grin widened as he realized he had him hooked. "You can find out more about it at Major Fest. I'll see you there!" He spun around and took his leave before the others could protest.

Kevin groaned. "But I have so much to do," he whined.

"You know you're gonna have to go." This time, Arnold paused the game before facing his friend. "I'll go if you go."

"Ugh. Fine."

* * *

><p>"Isn't this exciting?" Connor surveyed the entrance to Major Fest with glee. "I love the union. Especially when they use it for big programs like this."<p>

"Sure, it's great," Kevin said. "Now come on, let's hurry up and find Arnold a major so we can leave." He stepped forward through the wide open double-door entrance, and the others followed. A woman inside greeted them with a chipper smile.

"Welcome to Major Fest," she said. "What are you interested in studying?"

"Microbiology with minors in math and chemistry, pre-med concentration," Kevin rattled off. "But I've already declared that."

"And I'm musical theatre," Connor replied.

"Yeah, and I'm undecided," Arnold said. "No idea what I want to do."

"No problem! Feel free to browse all of our programs here. We have professors, GAs, and fellow undergrads at every table who can tell you more. And don't forget to check out our student resources."

"Thank you!" Connor chirped, a hand on Arnold's shoulder as he ushered him passed crowds of students toward the tables. "So Arnold, what subjects interest you? Is there anything you're even slightly considering?"

"Not sure," Arnold looked along the first row of tables thoughtfully. "Nothing like what Kevin's doing. I want to actually enjoy my life."

"Hey!" Kevin snapped. "Okay then, what about English? That sounds fun, right? Reading books? You'll never be able to get a job after graduation, but at least you'll have fun while you're here. Come on, let's go find the English majors."

"You know, English majors do more than sit around reading books," Connor defended as they wandered along the rows of tables. "And there are plenty of jobs out there for them."

"Sure, of you want to work in retail your whole life."

"Connor gave him a dirty look. "Oh, really? So what about me, then? I'm in an artsy field as well; what exactly do _**my**_ prospects look like, according to you?"

"Honestly, I think you're really talented, and you have a great chance of being part of the one percent who makes it to Broadway. But if you don't make it, then you're basically screwed."

"Right," Connor deadpanned. "Well, I'm gonna go talk to my friends at the theatre table. Arnold, let me know when you're sick of him, and we'll look around together. Sound good?"

"Yeah, see ya!" Arnold called as he took off. "Glad to see you guys are talking like normal again," he told Kevin.

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked, his shoulders tense.

Arnold hesitated and decided to play dumb. "Well, you guys were weird the other day. But you seem fine now."

"Were we?" Kevin's voice was slightly higher as he spoke. "Didn't seem that way to me. Oh, well, anyhow, what else do you want to look at? Business? Anthropology? Elementary Ed?"

"Um, okay," Arnold frowned. "Yeah, I guess we can check out those, and…oh, man," he stopped as the Fraternity and Sorority life display sitting on the Student Involvement and Leadership table caught his eye. "Check it out," he said longingly. "It's the cool kids."

"The what?" Kevin backtracked and looked toward where Arnold was staring. "There's no such thing as cool kids in college, Arn."

"But it's the Greeks, Kevin!"

"They have a lot more than Greek life in Student Involvement."

"Well yeah, but everyone wants to be a Greek. Don't you?"

"Are you kidding?" Kevin laughed. "My parents would have a fit if I joined a fraternity. But hey, you can be a part of whatever you like. If you want to go talk to them, then do it."

"No way," Arnold said, shaking his head and stepping back. "I'll look stupid."

"Come on, don't be like that." Kevin took his arm and pulled him forward. "This isn't high school, and people think you're great. What's the worst that can possibly happen?"

"Um, cardiac arrest."

"You're not gonna have a heart attack. Now go on." He gave him a little shove forward when they reached the table, and Arnold felt his throat go dry. One of the students standing by the display, a handsome man with a shirt featuring Greek letters Arnold didn't recognize, gave him a casual nod. "How's it going?"

Arnold's mind promptly went blank. "Um, yes, hello." The words tumbled out of his mouth with no control. "My name's Arnold and I recently became a prophet. All of my followers are in Africa, though." Beside him, Kevin sucked in a sharp breath. "This is my best friend Kevin," he quickly added. "His interests include waiting for marriage and Orlando, Florida."

The frat guy gave him a blank look. "Cool," he said abruptly. "You do you, man. Here's a brochure."

"Thanks," Kevin said hastily, snatching the brochure and steering Arnold away. "Have a nice day."

"I told you I'd sound stupid!" Arnold hissed.

"It's fine," Kevin said. "Let's go find that English table, shall we?"

Arnold sighed miserably. "No, let's just go back to the dorm. I'm not gonna find anything I can study, anyway. Weber State doesn't have a major in worthless."

"Sure they do; it's called philosophy." Kevin smiled wryly. "Want to go find their table, too?"

"If you're trying to be funny, it's not working."

"Sorry, pal. Don't worry about that Greek guy. Lots of people love you, awkwardness and all. You've got me, Naba, Connor, Poptarts, the villagers and the rest of our mission friends, the gaming club—come on, that's a ton!"

"There's not that many people in gaming club," Arnold pointed out.

"Hey," Kevin patted his shoulder. "Quality beats quantity."

"Thanks, best friend." Arnold grinned, already feeling a little better. They had circled around and were now in view of the theatre table, and Arnold watched with envy as Connor chatted animatedly with the students there. "See, why can't I be like him?" he whined. "It's so easy for him to talk to people!"

"He's great, isn't he?" Kevin quickly checked himself, but not before Arnold caught the brief glint of adoration in his eyes. "But he also gets weirdly excited over things like Major Fest, so don't get too jealous. Oh, and you're way more imaginative than him, which is good because you know who needs imagination? English majors! Let's go find them."

"Um, Kevin? Are you just trying to make me pick a major so we can leave?"

Kevin paused. "Kind of," he admitted.

"Okay, well in that case, I don't want to be an English Major. I want to look at every table here—except English—and carefully weigh my options. Oohh, look, multimedia! Maybe I could make movies!"

He made a mad dash for the table, laughing as Kevin groaned behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Freshman Year, Fall Semester**_

**Chapter Five: Prophet in the House**

"Hey, Kev?" Arnold looked up from his laptop. "Can I borrow some money?"

Kevin flipped to the answer page in his calculus textbook and huffed in frustration. "Why can't I get this right?" he exclaimed, snatching up his homework sheet and scrutinizing his work. "How much do you need?"

"Fifty, maybe sixty bucks."

Kevin looked up at him in alarm. "Seriously? You already owe me thirty!"

"Yeah, but there's a new Sims coming out! I'll pay you back, I swear."

"Don't your parents send you money each month?" Kevin decided to just start on the problem from scratch and began vigorously erasing the sheet.

"Yeah," Arnold began as he shifted in his seat on his bed. "But I spent this month's already, and I don't wanna ask them for more. My dad'll just yell at me."

Kevin shook his head, making a mental note to teach his friend how to set up a budget. "Sorry buddy, I don't get paid till next week. Have you thought about getting a job? I love working at Starbucks."

"Only 'cause you get discounts," Arnold muttered. "Which, by the way, don't do much good when you spend half your paycheck on the product you're selling right after your shift."

Kevin chose to ignore that remark. He opened the student employment page on his old-yet-still-reliable white MacBook and then stood up. "Check this out," he said, flopping down next to Arnold and showing him the screen. "Look at all the places hiring on campus."

Arnold quickly glanced at the page and gave Kevin a look of horror. "I don't want to work at the cheesie grill!"

"Fine, you don't have to. There's a bunch of academic offices hiring, too. You could be a front desk worker. Or you could work at the bookstore. "

"Hmm," Arnold squinted at the screen. "Those jobs want résumés, though. I don't have one of those."

"That's okay, we'll make you one!" Kevin grinned, his whole face brightening like it always did whenever he was able to use his expertise to help someone else. "Here, I'll show you mine—it looks amazing, if I do say so myself—and then you can use it as a model for building yours."

Arnold peered at the Word file now displayed on the screen. "You've done so much stuff!" he said. "Oh, man, I can't believe you built a dog park. A whole dog park!"

Kevin smiled proudly. "Aw, thanks, pal. That was my Eagle Scout project. I really have done a lot, haven't I?"

"I don't even have half of this stuff. How am I gonna fill it up?"

"You have plenty of experience," Kevin said. "What about all the things we did in Uganda? Look, just try writing out all the service and leadership experience you have and putting it into a format like this one. I'll look over it when you're done and we can modify it from there. How's that sound?"

"You sure you can't just do it for me?"

Kevin glowered at him. "Do I get your paycheck, too?"

"What? No, that's my paycheck."

"Then no."

* * *

><p><em>The Following Afternoon<em>

"Can I borrow one of those highlighters?" Connor asked, eyeing the two on the table that accompanied the one in Kevin's hand. "I left mine in my room."

Kevin flashed him a mock glare. "You're screwing with my color-coding system, you know that?" He picked one up and tossed it across the table. "Fine, but I'm taking it back if I need it. Have the pink one; I use it least."

Connor laughed. "I love pink."

"Believe me, I'm well aware."

The two were sitting across from each other in the library, Kevin with his nose in his chemistry book while Connor tried with all his might to keep himself interested in American history. After recovering from their initial awkwardness, the two had become rather comfortable, often meeting in the library for afternoon study. Kevin was grateful for the quiet, and Connor found it was the only time he could force himself to actually read his textbooks—although he caught himself staring at Kevin, his eyebrows scrunched adorably in concentration, more often than he'd care to admit.

They worked in silence for a while, until Kevin paged through the remainder of the chapter and scowled. "This is so much work," he grumbled. "Maybe I should change my major."

"What are you gonna change it to?" Connor asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did you find something you liked at Major Fest?"

"Oh, enough about Major Fest already. And I don't know. The com students seem to have it easy; maybe I'll do that."

"You think you can be a doctor with a communication degree?" Connor asked skeptically. "Come on, your classes can't be that bad."

"Says the theatre kid," Kevin smirked.

"For your information, my dance class is pretty hard. Think _**you**_ could do it?" Connor recapped the highlighter and tossed it back, hitting Kevin squarely in the forehead.

"Ow!" Kevin jerked his head up and rubbed the reddened spot. "You could have hit me in the eye! I could be blind right now."

"Wouldn't matter. Com majors don't need two working eyes."

"Rude," Kevin said, picking up the highlighter and putting it back in his pile. "You're not getting this back."

"Oh, dear," Connor sighed. He feigned sadness, shutting his textbook and slowly sliding it to the edge of the table. "That means I can't finish this. What a shame."

"Okay, Kevin, I think I've got it!" Kevin jumped at the sound of Arnold's voice, and twisted around to see that his friend had crept up behind him. "My résumé is finished."

"Awesome," Kevin set his chemistry homework aside and held out his hand for the sheet of paper. "Let's take a look."

Arnold handed him the paper and took a seat in the open chair next to Connor. "Kevin's helping me build a résumé," he explained. "And it was easier than I thought it was gonna be, too. I've actually done a lot of really cool stuff! I think the bookstore's gonna be really impressed, you know?" He turned back to Kevin. "So, bestie, what do you think?"

Kevin didn't respond; he merely stared at the paper with a blank expression on his face.

"Check it out, it rendered him speechless," Arnold said.

"Apparently," Connor grinned.

Kevin finally looked up at Arnold. "Seriously?" He flipped the paper over, the words _Prophet Arnold Cunningham _boldly printed across the top of the page.

Arnold's smile widened. "You noticed, huh? I think it adds a nice touch; let the bookstore people know I'm not the average applicant."

"Oh, believe me, they'll know you're not the average candidate," Kevin said. "They're gonna think you're a damn idiot."

"What? But you told me to focus on the Uganda stuff!"

"I meant the service we did there," Kevin countered. "You know, digging wells, writing grants for medicine, those sorts of things. If you're applying for a job, it's best not to tell everyone you declared yourself the prophet of a religion you made up."

"Made up?! You always said it was helping—" Arnold stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I see what this is all about. You're just jealous because my résumé is better than yours now. I'm a prophet and you're just a lowly Eagle Scout."

"Really? Are you being serious right now? That's not what this is about."

"Uh huh. Sure. Remind me to buy you some peanut butter, 'cause you're so jelly."

"No really! I'm not—" Kevin let out an exasperated sigh and turned to Connor. "Help me out, Connor. Did you write _Prophet McKinley_ on your résumé when you applied for your job?"

Connor chuckled; he had too much fun messing with Kevin to let this go. "Of course not," he said. "I wasn't a prophet, remember? Mine said disciple."

Kevin gave him his best disapproving glare. "You're not funny," he snapped. "You think you are, but you're not."

"Come on, Kevin, I'm a server at Olive Garden. Do you honestly think they even asked to see a résumé?"

"Wait, you work at Olive Garden?" Arnold said. "No way, I knew you were a waiter, but I didn't know it was at Olive Garden! How come you never bring me any breadsticks?"

"It doesn't matter whether they asked," Kevin carried on like Arnold hadn't even spoke. "If you really cared you would have just given them a copy anyway, like I did with Starbucks."

"You're right, of course. If they'd had the pleasure of throwing that away, I'm sure I would've been promoted straight to manager."

"Guys, come on," Arnold cut in. "We've gotta talk about all the breadsticks Connor's obviously been hoarding from us."

"I'll see if I can smuggle some out for you after my next shift," Connor sighed, picking up his pen and turning back to his notebook. "And honestly, Kevin, if Arnold wants to stick prophet on his résumé, then let him do it. It shouldn't make a difference to you."

"But he's doing it _**wrong**_." Kevin probably didn't realize how whiny his voice sounded.

"You heard him," Arnold said smugly as he stood up. "Let me do my thing. And try not to be so jelly." He snatched the résumé back out of Kevin's hands and sauntered off, a little bounce in his step.

Kevin gave Connor a pointed look. "You know he's not gonna get that job."

"Yes, well, he needs to make his own mistakes."

* * *

><p><em>One Week Later<em>

"Check it out," Arnold tossed his new name tag onto Kevin's desk with a flair.

"Wait, what?" Kevin did a literal double-take, picking up the name tag in shock. "They actually hired you?"

"Yep! They said they liked my sense of humor. Turns out you don't know as much about résumés as you think you do, buddy."

"No way," Kevin shook his head. "You're making this up; there's no way they would have taken you seriously."

"Want me to show you my W4?" Arnold asked. "That's the tax form they make you—"

"I know what a W4 is!" Kevin exclaimed. "This is insane; only you would—how on earth did you do that?!"

"I'm just that good," Arnold said proudly. "Well, I'm off to class. See ya, buddy."

Walking out the door, Arnold grinned as he heard Kevin call out, "This was a one-time thing; don't expect it to happen again!" He supposed he _**could**_ tell Kevin he'd had a last-minute change of heart and followed his friend's advice just before turning in his application. But this was so much more fun.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Freshman Year, Spring Semester**_

**Chapter 6: Weekly Prostate Exams**

Though it seemed at times as if classes would never end, first semester of freshman year flew by in a rush. Before Arnold knew it, they'd plunged straight into January and the beginning of spring semester (though why they called it "spring" Arnold wasn't sure—with the biting cold it certainly didn't feel like spring was coming any time soon). This meant a new schedule to adjust to, new textbooks to buy, and a whole new pile of work to put off until the last minute. But on this Monday, with the roads iced over and classes cancelled, Arnold wasn't going to worry about any of that. For now he was content to kick back in the lounge with Kevin, Connor, Naba, and Christopher Thomas (both of whom had been visiting their friends on campus over the weekend, only to be stuck there when the snow fell).

"Want to go see a movie?" Chris asked.

"How are we going to get there?" Naba asked. "I don't want us driving in this weather."

"It's not as bad as it looks." Connor stared down at his phone with disinterest, clearly only messing with it in order to have something to do with his hands.

"Still," Naba said wrapping her blanket tighter around her. "This cold sucks. I hate winter in America."

"We could watch a movie in Kevin's and my room," Arnold suggested. "I have a ton of cool sci-fi stuff, and Kev's got like every Disney movie ever made. Or we could rent one!"

"Sounds fun." Connor sat up in interest. "That okay with you, Kevin?"

"You guys go ahead," Kevin only halted his rapid typing to flip the page of his notebook and guzzle down another long drink of coffee. "I need to finish this."

"You're still working on homework?" Arnold sighed. "Even on Extra Snow Day? That's all you ever do anymore. I told you, if you work too hard your—"

"Yeah, yeah, my skull will crack open from the pressure and my brains will fall out, I know. I really do have to get this done though, or my lab partner'll lose it. She's awful like that."

"Aww," Chris leaned forward in his seat and grinned. "Does she actually want a fair say in the project? Sucks when that happens, doesn't it?"

"Ha ha," Kevin snapped dryly. "No Poptarts, she's just a horrible person. Her name's Brynn DeMarco—" he mockingly raised his voice on her name in disgust. "And she's a cruel, rude, condescending, sorry excuse for a human being."

A surprised silence followed. "Wow," Chris said. "Tell us how you really feel."

"You said anything about this Brynn girl before," Arnold said.

"Well I haven't been working with her for long. I just met her this semester."

"She can't be that bad," Naba said. "What exactly did she do to you?"

"She…" Kevin furrowed his brow, racking his brain. "Lots of things. She's just really mean and says awful things. All the time."

"You guys," Chris laughed. "Kevin's being picked on."

Kevin huffed frustration as they all snickered. "Why don't you believe me!?"

"It's not that we don't believe you," Connor pointed out. "We just…well, we don't know if you take you seriously. You _**do**_ have a fragile ego."

"There is nothing wrong with my ego," Kevin countered.

"Aaand, there it is," Chris drawled.

"Anyone would be offended by her! And you guys are bad people too, making light of the whole thing," Kevin snapped. "All y'all would change your minds real quick if you ever met her."

He resumed his work, and the others fell into a quiet lull, until Chris broke it not twenty seconds later.

"_All y'all_," he mocked, giggling fiercely.

"Jerk."

* * *

><p><em>Later that evening<em>

"Come on, Kevin, hurry up," Arnold bounced up and down impatiently. "I thought you said you were finished."

"Let me just review this one more time."

"It's fine! Come on, we want to watch _Back to the Future_!"

"All right, there I printed it, happy? Now we can stop by the front desk and grab it on our way up."

"Finally!" Arnold leapt up from his seat and started toward the door, bypassing the front desk and heading straight for the elevator. Kevin ignored his impatience and approached the student worker at the desk, a plain young woman whose eyes were currently glued to her computer screen.

"Hi," Kevin said, and her eyes snapped up. "I need to pick up—"

"Hey, girl!" Connor cut him off, stepping up to the desk and grinning.

"Connor!" She exclaimed, completely ignoring Kevin now. "Where've you been? You missed the last meeting and it was lame."

"I had to work," he sighed. "Hey, these are the friends from my mission I was telling you about. Everyone, this is Jami. We're in RHA together."

"Wait, you're actually in that?" Arnold asked skeptically, now tired of standing by himself at the elevator and making his way back over to the group.

"Yes, we're actually in that. It's important to be involved in your residence hall," Connor defended himself.

Jami nodded in agreement. "You should really consider joining too; I've met so many new people there."

"That's exciting, I'm happy for you," Kevin said dismissively. "Can I get my paper now?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Is it this one?" She plucked the sheets off the printer and glanced at the the cover page. "Oh hey, you're in Chem II? My roommate's in Chem II."

"Sadly, he is." Kevin stiffened at the new voice. In the midst of their conversation, no one had noticed the tiny girl that had entered the building and was now snatching the paper out of Jami's hands.

"Hi, Brynn!" Jami responded cheerfully.

"Give that back," Kevin snapped.

"What the hell is this?" Brynn DeMarco paged through the text. "Eight pages, just for your section, huh?What's that word Dr. Yanik used again? Oh, right, _**concise**_. Do you not know what that means. Kevin? Or do you just not give a shit?"

"Maybe I'm not finished editing yet."

"So you printed off a rough draft and wasted paper like an asshole?"

"Oh, like you care about the environment," Kevin huffed. "I worked hard on this paper, and it's great. Once I trim it down, it'll be downright perfect. So lay off."

Brynn sorted, her dark eyes somehow managing to stare him down despite the prominent height difference. "Perfect, huh? Yeah I'm sure. Look, I know you think you think you're Mr. Fucking Fantastic. I'm sure you were a big deal at your backwater high school of five people, three of which were probably your cousins. And I know you've spent the past few years singing _kumbaya_ with a bunch of primitive African villagers who can barely even light a damn fire on their own much less figure out what a damn fake you are—" At this, Naba gave her a glare. "—But come on, figure your shit out. I don't care of you're used to having the whole wide world up your ass giving you weekly prostate exams. This is college, and you're average at best. Stop being a douche-canoe and step up your game. Rewrite this and bring it to class tomorrow."

She shoved the sheets of paper in his hands and started for the stairs, her boots clacking on the tile. Kevin sputtered for a second, trying to come up with a response, before he simply looked away with a mortified expression on his face.

"Hey!" Arnold called out, and Brynn stopped and spun back around. "Not cool. You're not allowed to talk about stuff being up Kevin's butt; you don't know his life!"

"Arnold!" Kevin hissed, his face bright red.

"Oh, right, sorry, bud. And by the way, those villagers knew tons of stuff! And Kevin's totally smart. He's so smart, he got into CalTech!"

Brynn raised an eyebrow. "Well, he's not _**at**_ CalTech, is he?" She said. "No surprise there."

"Johns Hopkins," Kevin said, still staring at the ground. "It wasn't CalTech, it was Johns Hopkins!"

Brynn opened the door to the stairwell and flashed him a quizzical look. "So? You're not at Johns Hopkins, either," she pointed out, before disappearing from sight.

"Wow," Connor murmured. "Guess you weren't exaggerating this time."

Kevin finally snapped his head up and faced Connor with a glare. "I told you!" He cried.

"She's actually really nice!" Jami defended. "I mean, well, she _**can**_ be…sometimes."

Kevin sighed and leaned against the desk, burying his head in his arms on the countertop. "I don't know what to do," he said.

"You could step on her," Naba said. When Kevin raised his head a few centimeters, skepticism evident in his one visible eye, she continued, "I'm just saying, the bitch is tiny."

"I like her," said Chris. "What?" He added when the others gave him incredulous looks. "She seems to know what she wants in life, and that's a good trait to have."

At that, Connor frowned and shrugged. "It actually is a really good trait," he conceded, while Jami nodded vigorously and added, "She's definitely a go-getter."

"Seriously?" Kevin wailed. "Okay, sure. This girl is making my life a living hell, but it's okay because _**she knows what she wants in life**_. You guys are terrible people." He straightened up and gathered all his papers. "I'm not letting any of you watch TV in my room."

"Not even me?!" Arnold asked.

"No."

"But Naba and I didn't even do anything!"

"I don't care—well, no, you're right. Okay," Kevin relented as he started from the stairwell. "You two can come. But not you, Chris. Or you, Connor. I'm mad at you both. And not you, either." He shot Jami a dirty look.

"Um," Jami began as she shifted in her seat. "I wasn't going to? I barely know you, and I'm stuck here for the next two hours."

Kevin stopped by the door to the stairwell and did a double-take, clearly not expecting her to actually respond. "Well…good, because I didn't want you there!" With that, he swung open the door hurried through, letting it shut abruptly behind him.

"Well, guess we better go," Arnold said. "Bye, you guys."

"Not yet," Naba stopped him. "Give him a minute. He's had a rough day; he needs a time-out."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Freshman Year, Spring Semester**_

**Chapter 7: Get That Dog a Burrito**

"It's here!" Arnold threw his notebook in the air as he and Kevin exited the science building, their last classes of the week finally complete. "Our first college spring break! Man it's gonna be insane."

"The semester's only halfway over," Kevin remarked. "So you probably still need those notes."

"Oh," Arnold turned around, watching several papers scatter to the ground around the fallen notebook. "Right. Help me pick them up, will you?"

Once the papers had all been retrieved and were safely tucked back in the notebook, they resumed their trek back to the residence hall. "But yeah, this is gonna be totally awesome!" Arnold continued. "You're staying on campus too, right?"

"Of course. My parents make me see them enough as it is."

"Yeah, me too. Naba's gonna stay with us some, too. That okay?"

"Sure, that's fine."

"Cool! So, what are we gonna do? We have to go totally crazy; that's what you're supposed to do on spring break."

"Oh, I plan to," Kevin brightened in anticipation. "Midterms killed me, and I can't wait to catch up on sleep. Get this: tomorrow, I'm gonna sleep in until noon!"

Arnold paused. "Oh, really?"

"Crazy, isn't it? I've never slept in that late. But hey, new experiences, right?"

"Um, sure, yeah. Good for you. But that's not what I meant, buddy. I was thinking we could go to a club."

"What?" Kevin stopped and turned around. "Why would we go to a club?"

"Because it's spring break! New experiences, letting loose! We're twenty-one, it's no problem."

"I don't drink, Arnold."

"You did that one time in Uganda."

"Yeah, that didn't work out so well."

"Why?" Arnold tilted his head innocently, feigning ignorance. "What happened?"

"Um, well, I…" Kevin floundered. "Nothing, really, you were there! I sang karaoke with the general and felt really sick afterward, remember?"

"Okay, so don't drink so much this time. C'mon, I really want to go. Please, best friend? I want to wear my party clothes!"

"You have party clothes?"

"You're darn right I have party clothes!"

Kevin sighed. "Fine, but not for long. And we'll go tomorrow, not tonight. I'm tired."

* * *

><p><em>The Next Evening<em>

"Check out my party clothes!" Arnold singsonged, stepping into his and Kevin's room with a hop and doing a little belly jiggle. "Ready to go, bestie?"

Kevin dug around in his desk drawer for his keys. "In a minute, just let me…" He drifted off when he looked up, fully taking in Arnold's powder blue suit, ruffled white collar, and turquoise crocs. "Oh dear lord, is that really what you're wearing?"

"What? It's my party clothes!" Arnold surveyed himself in the mirror. "My mom bought me this for special occasions. It comes with a tie, but I feel like going casual this evening, you know?"

"Are those _**crocs**_?"

"Yep. Comfy _**and**_ stylish."

"Arnold," Kevin paused, trying to figure out how to best word his thoughts. "Are you sure you want to wear that? Really, _**truly**_ sure?"

"Um, yeah, duh, or I wouldn't have put it on. What are you doing? You don't see me drilling you on your boring polo."

"I'm just…well, I'm not sure that's appropriate for a club. Or bar, or wherever we're going."

"How do you know? You've never been to a club. Relax, it's gonna be fine! Now come on, we need to get Naba and Connor so we can go!"

Kevin didn't move, still staring at the outfit and frowning. "Can you at least get rid of the crocs?" he pleaded.

"You know, I think it's kind of rude that you don't appreciate my fashion choices. But I'm gonna let it slide, 'cause I really want to go. Now come on, no more talk about the party clothes, unless it's to say how awesome they are."

"But there's never a good reason for crocs."

"No more talk about the party clothes, Kevin!"

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe you and Kevin agreed to go to a club," Naba giggled, curiously flipping through Connor's planner.<p>

"Are you saying I don't know how to have a good time?" Connor straightened his vest in the mirror.

"I just didn't think clubs and bars were your version of fun."

"They're not, really." He ran a comb through his hair one more time. "But who knows? I might turn out to be a great little alcoholic."

Naba opened her mouth to respond, but then a knock sounded on the door and she promptly lost interest. She leapt up from her seat on the bed and opened the door.

"Hi, you two," she said to Kevin and Arnold. "I think we're ready to—Arnold, what the hell are you wearing!?"

"You like? These are my party clothes!"

"Connor," she hissed, spinning back around and approaching the former district leader. "Do something."

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine. There's no reason to…" He turned to assess Arnold's outfit, and the rest of his sentence was forever lost as he fell onto his bed in a fit of laughter.

"I can't believe you let him leave the room like this!" Naba snapped, scowling at Kevin.

"It's not my fault," Kevin defended. "He's _**your**_ boyfriend."

"Still though, maybe you should have—shut up, Connor, it isn't that funny! Arnold, go back upstairs and change right now."

"What? No! Why doesn't anyone like my party clothes?"

"I like them, Arnold," Connor said in between snorts of laughter. "They're so…so very…well, you."

"Thanks, Connor. I'm not changing."

"Can't he just wear the suit so we can get this over with?" said Kevin. "I don't want to stand here arguing forever."

"Fine," Naba grumbled. "Look like an idiot, what do I care? Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Check it out!" Arnold said as they stepped into the club, blaring music assaulting their ears upon entrance. "Told you this would be fun!"<p>

"What?" Kevin shouted, squinting in the dark.

"I said I told you this would be fun! C'mon, let's go get drinks!"

They made their way to bar, where the bartender scanned his eyes up and down Arnold's outfit before idly shrugging. "What d'you want?"

"Um…" Kevin glanced upwards in search of a menu. When he found nothing but the names of several concoctions he didn't recognize, he looked back at the bartender helplessly.

"Yes, we'd like some alcohol, please," Arnold finished.

"You want alcohol," the bartender deadpanned, eyes flickering down to their wrists in search of the proper wristbands.

Connor sighed and stepped forward. "They want long islands," he said. "That is a thing, right?" he quickly double-checked.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's a thing."

"Great, then I want one as well. Thanks!"

Naba stepped forward and smiled sweetly. "What are your specials?" She asked.

The bartender simply gestured down at her _under 21 _wristband, bright pink as opposed the others' yellow ones. "No way, cutie. Nice try, though."

"Ugh, fine. I'll have a coke, then."

Once they had their drinks in hand, Kevin eyed his in distaste. "Pretty sure I remember alcohol being really gross," he said. "How much did this cost? Isn't liquor expensive?"

"Don't think about the price," Arnold said, then he chuckled. "Hah! Price! Get it? Because of your name? And because, y'know, I said not—"

"Yeah. I got it."

"Awesome. Okay best friend, we both take drinks on the count of three."

"I don't know…" Kevin stared at the glass in apprehension.

"You probably won't get drunk off of one, Kevin," Connor said. Then, when a drunken patron knocked over a chair a few tables over and Arnold and Naba turned toward the sound, he forward and whispered in Kevin's ear, "And there's not gonna be a repeat of last time, so stop worrying about that."

Kevin's face reddened. "I wasn't thinking about that," he lied.

"You guys!" Arnold cut in. "We've had these forever and haven't taken drinks. On the count of three. One, two, three!"

Arnold and Kevin both squeezed their eyes shut, braced themselves, and took small, anticlimactic sips through their straws. "Hey," Kevin said. "That wasn't so bad. It's actually pretty good!"

"I know," Arnold said. "It's sweet. I didn't think it would be sweet. What do you think, Connor?"

When Connor didn't respond, the other three looked at him questioningly—only to find him still sipping through his straw, the glass in his hand already almost empty. "What?" he asked as the others continued to stare.

"Nothing," Arnold said quickly. "Glad you like it. I'm gonna go drink and dance. Come on, bestie, time to put these party clothes to work!" He grabbed Kevin's arm and pulled him in the direction of the dance floor. "You too, Naba! And you, Connor!"

"We're not going with them," Naba said simply as she and Conner took a seat at the nearest empty table. When Arnold leapt put into the middle of the floor and began showing off his best dance moves, squeezing in between a grinding couple in the process, she winced and added, "In fact, let's just pretend we don't know him."

"You love him," Connor teased.

In the dim light, he could barely make out her blush. "Well you love Kevin, so there."

Connor sighed and finished off the last of his drink. "Yes, well, the difference is that you and Arnold are happily together and Kevin and I are never, ever going to happen."

"Maybe you should find someone else," Naba suggested. "Have you tried dating anybody?"

"Naba, I'm a gay man in the middle of Utah. I don't exactly have that many prospects."

"You are being too pessimistic," she countered. "You're smart, kind, funny, and handsome. Any gay man would be an idiot not to want you."

Connor smiled. "You're such a sweetheart," he said. "But honestly, I'm not sure I want to date anyone right now. It just doesn't feel right."

"Because of Kevin? Forget about him. You can't sit around waiting forever."

Connor's eyes traveled in the direction of the dance floor, where Kevin stood awkwardly off to the side sipping his drink while Arnold danced. Naba had a point. How many times had he told himself to move on? Honestly, sometimes he didn't even know what he saw in Kevin. He was stubborn, self-involved, overly competitive, and somehow managed to be obnoxiously mature and completely childish at the same time. But then, he was also caring, driven, gorgeous, and had so much heart—

No. That was enough. He wasn't going to waste anymore time thinking about it. "You know what?" he said. "I'm gonna need another drink."

* * *

><p>Kevin wasn't really sure how it got to this point. Really, after he finished his drink, he planned to just sit back and wait for Arnold to tire himself out. But then Arnold pointed out that they had other flavors of Long Islands ("Look, cherry limeade! You like cherries, and you like limeades, it's perfect!"), and after his second drink those two people a couple seats down just seemed <em><strong>so<strong>_ nice he just _**had**_ to talk to them, and apparently they really liked him too, because they—obviously drunk themselves—kept laughing at everything he said and handing him one drink after another. He didn't _**think**_ he was being that funny, but hey, they were having a good time and the drinks they gave him were tasty, so that was all that mattered.

"You guys," he said, staring down at his watch in confusion. "It is _**way **_past my bedtime. No, I'm serious, you guys!" he protested when they laughed. "I mean, sometimes I have to stay up late for papers now, but when I was in my mission, we had…uh…we had, um…rules! Yeah, tons of rules. At my house, too. My parents made us go to bed at 9 every school night. On weekends we could stay up until ten, and on New Years we get to stay up until midnight and that's really hard to do! Have you ever tried to do that?" He ignored their chuckles and added, "One time when I was little, I fell asleep before midnight, and when I woke up the next morning I cried."

"Sad day," the girl said, and Kevin wondered if the left side of her hair actually was longer than the right side, or if he'd just officially lost control of his focus.

He solemnly nodded. "It was," he said. "It was a really sad day. Hey, hey, do either of you have dogs? Can I see pictures of them?"

"Sure," the guy fiddled with his phone for a minute before holding it out so Kevin could see the screen. Kevin leaned forward and squinted.

"He's so skinny!" He snapped. "What is wrong with you?"

"No worries, man, he's a greyhound."

"He needs to eat more! Feed him some burritos!"

"Nah, he only gets Purina. Wanna try some shots?"

"Oh, yeah, I saw someone get shot once! That was a sad day, too."

"Dude, no," Hair Girl looked at him in alarm. "Shots. Mini drinks. Double the alcohol. No one dies."

"Oh, well," he tried to focus in on the assortment of empty glasses on the table. "I'm not supposed to drink much tonight."

"Why not?"

"Ummm," Kevin scrunched his forehead in thought. "Because…well…there _**was**_ a reason…" he finally looked up at the two pairs of eyes trained on him expectantly. "I can't remember."

"So," Greyhound Guy said after draining the last of his vodka cranberry. "Shots?"

"Okay!" Kevin grinned. "Yay!"

* * *

><p>Connor swiftly downed the Irish car bomb in front of him and slammed the empty glass onto the table, the smaller shot rattling inside. "See?" He said triumphantly. "Told you I make a good alcoholic! Ugh, that was bitter <em><strong>and <strong>_offensive. I want another one."

Naba giggled. "If someone had told me two years ago that I'd be spending time with you mission boys at an American bar—"

"You would have _**totally**_ seen it coming, right?"

"Naba! Connor!" Arnold panted his way over, and Connor internally cringed at the prominent sweat stains all over his suit. "You gotta dance! C'mon, it's fun."

"I'm okay here," Naba said. "You go on and have fun, though."

"Aw, come on!" He said. "What about you, Connor? You love dancing."

Naba smiled mischievously. "Yes, Connor, you love dancing," she said. "Maybe after a couple more of those Irish things you'll even give us a show on the pole."

"Wait, there's a pole?" Connor said. "I'll do it now if you pay for all these drinks I've had."

"Hey, guys," Arnold looked around and frowned. "Where's Kevin?"

"Wasn't he with you?" Naba said.

"He was, but then he came back up here with you, didn't he?"

Connor shook his head. "We haven't seen him."

"Uh, oh," Arnold said. He turned around and bellowed out, at the top of his lungs. "KEVIN! BUDDY, WHERE YOU AT?!"

"You talking about the stiff in the polo?" The bartender asked. "He left with Mindy and Will."

"With who?" Connor asked, and the bartender simply shrugged.

"Mindy and Will," he repeated. "Weird-ass couple who come in every Saturday and get a bunch of vodka cranberries, and then go see Bianca Royale at the gay bar. That's probably where they are now."

"Shit," Naba sighed. "We have to find this gay bar." She and Arnold turned to Connor expectantly.

"What? How the hell am I supposed to know where it is?" he snapped.

"Because, well, because you're gay," Arnold replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So? I've never been there." He scowled and whipped out his phone. There couldn't possibly be that many gay bars in Ogden. "Okay," he said after retrieving his search results. "Let's go."

"See? I knew you'd be able to find it!"

"Yes, Arnold, I just had to check the weekly email from the listserv all gay people are automatically subscribed to—Oh, damn it," he winced as the bartender brought over his check and he saw the total. Well, there went a good chunk of tomorrow's tips. He grudgingly slapped some money down on the table, and then they started for the exit. "Check out that suit!" A man called on their way out.

"Yeah, it's my party clothes!" Arnold replied.

"Nice!"

Arnold gave Naba a smug look. "Seems like people appreciate my suit after all," he said.

* * *

><p>"You sure this is it?" Arnold asked as the three of them stood on the sidewalk staring at the sketchy bar front.<p>

"That's what Google says," Connor replied.

"Think Kev would go to a place like this?"

Naba stepped forward and swung open the door. "They probably told him it was Disney World and his drunk ass believed them."

Ears still ringing from the last place, the music blaring inside made Connor and Naba wince. "See him anywhere?" Connor called, and they all did their best to scan the crowds of people clustered at the bar and around the platform stage, where a drag queen in a glittery red dress and 8-inch heels signaled to the DJ to cut the music.

"Okay, boys and girls," she boomed. "This is Bianca Royale, cutting you hoes off and telling you to shut your mouths, because we've got a birthday in here tonight!" Random cheers sounded in the audience, and she continued. "That's right, little miss Brittany's all grown up and 21 today! Get your ass up here, girl! Any other birthdays in the house?"

"ME!" Arnold, Connor, and Naba all whipped their heads around at the sound of Kevin's voice, watching in horror as he stumbled his way up to the stage. "It's my birthday, you guys!" He snorted in laughter, and half his drink spilled onto the stage. "I'm nineteen today, NINETEEN!"

"It's not his birthday," Arnold said.

"Nope." Connor leaned back against the bar, arms crossed.

"It's not even his birth month!"

"Should we go get him?" Naba asked, and Connor shrugged in nonchalance.

"Doesn't really matter. Management'll do it for us if he keeps screaming about being nineteen."

"I'm Kevin, and I'm so honored to be here, with you guys, today," Kevin continued, his words slow and deliberate. "On my birthday…today!"

"Well how about that, looks like we've got two birthdays going on today," Bianca Royale bellowed over him. "Let's hear it for Brittany and—"

"Isn't is incredible?! Nineteen!"

"Bitch you ain't nineteen; sit your ass down!" Bianca snapped. At this, Naba and Arnold turned to Connor, and he sighed.

"Fine, let's go get him," he said, and Arnold hurried toward the stage.

"But it's my birthday," Kevin was saying. "You can't yell at me on my birthday! Wow, a day all about me. In my life, the years I've lived, is nineteen. Wowie."

"Kevin!" Arnold called. "C'mon, buddy, get off the stage. It's time to go."

"Arnie!" Kevin exclaimed gleefully. "But I'm not tired yet."

"Um, yeah, I know." Arnold thought quickly. "That's why we're going to Orlando."

"ORLANDO!" Kevin leapt off the stage, stumbling into Arnold's arms. "Yay! Bye, Greyhound Guy! Bye, Hair Girl! Bye, Mrs. Royale! Time to go to Sea World! Yay, Orlando; I'm so, so, so happy!"

Arnold pulled Kevin back toward Naba and Connor in the back. "Okay, let's go," he said.

"Hey, hey, you know what we should do after Orlando?" Kevin slurred. "Let's go to the Bermuda Triangle! It's a land full of adventure, and there's a lot to do there."

"Sure thing, Kevin," Arnold said. "Don't worry guys, he'll be passed out by the time we get home."

* * *

><p><em>The Next Morning<em>

"How are you feeling, buddy?" Arnold asked when Kevin finally cracked his bloodshot eyes open at 12:35 pm, his face pale and his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Tylenol," he croaked, struggling to sit up. "I need Tylenol."

"You look like crap," Arnold laughed, grabbing the bottle of medicine off Kevin's desk.

"Gee, thanks. So…" Kevin furrowed his brow as he tried to think. "What the heck happened last night?"

"What do you remember?"

"Um…drinks. Lots of drinks. And, let's see…a picture of dog…a tall, sparkly lady yelling at me…did I do something stupid?"

Arnold took a seat across from Kevin and shrugged. "Nothing too crazy, I guess. You went to the gay bar with a couple of strangers—"

"There's a gay bar in Ogden?"

"Yeah, who knew? Then you started yelling to the drag queen about how it was your birthday, and then we brought you back and you threw up in the parking lot. Which was gross, but we were just glad you got out of Connor's car first."

Kevin made a move to sit up and then quickly winced and flopped back down on his pillow. "I'm never drinking again," he grumbled as he clutched his forehead. "Would it be bad if I just stayed in bed the whole afternoon? I really don't—hey, wait, did you tell me we were going to Orlando?"

"Oh, uh," Arnold squirmed. "You remember that?"

"You jerk, I was really excited!"

"Well, you weren't supposed to remember it! You also said we should go to the Bermuda Triangle, but I don't see you complaining about not getting to go there."

"You can't just tell me we're going to Orlando and then not take me there, Arnold!"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, outside in the hallway Naba approached Kevin and Arnold's door and raised her hand to knock, but paused when she heard the voices inside.<p>

"How on Earth was I gonna take you to Orlando?!" Arnold was saying.

"I don't know; why'd you even bring it up?"

"What was I supposed to do? You were carrying on about being nineteen, which was rude 'cause, you know, it actually was that other girl's birthday and you stole her thunder! Thunder thief!"

"I thought I was gonna get to see the Disney castle again!"

"You were drunk! We drove past the Ogden temple and you thought we were already there! And it wasn't even the big Salt Lake one!"

Naba simply shook her head and turned back around. "I'll come back later," she murmured under her breath.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Freshman Year, Spring Semester**_

**Chapter 8: No One Shares Their Pumpkin Pie**

"Ugh, I can't focus," Kevin thunked his head down onto his Calc III practice problem set. "I'm sick of homework."

"Then quit working," Arnold said, staring intently at the game on his laptop. "It's spring break."

"I kind of have to, though. My jerk professor scheduled our test for the first class after break." Even so, Kevin closed his notebook and set the work aside for now. "What are you playing?" he asked.

"_Minecraft_."

"Again? You play that a lot."

"It's fun!"

Kevin rose from his desk chair and took a seat next to Arnold on his bed. "Can I play?"

"Really?" Arnold looked up and gave Kevin a quizzical look. "You want to play a computer game?"

Kevin shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"I thought you didn't like games."

"I haven't really played them much. My brother Andy has an Xbox and we play this racecar one sometimes, but that's about it. But hey, you seem to be having fun. So, can you teach me how to play it?"

"Um, okay, sure," Arnold said uncertainly, but then he brightened. "Yeah! Yeah, it'll be fun!"

It had taken awhile for Kevin to get all the controls down, but finally he was ready to go. "Okay, buddy," Arnold said. "Go ahead and move forward. Here, use my mouse."

"I don't need a mouse," Kevin said, his fingers hovering over the trackpad.

"Trust me, you're gonna want the mouse. It's easier, especially on that dumb old MacBook."

"Hey, I like my old MacBook. I've never needed a mouse before."

"Well, you've never played _Minecraft_ before. Just take the mouse."

"Okay," Kevin relented, plugging it into his computer. "So what do I do now?"

"Whatever you want, pal. That's the whole point of _Minecraft_: to do whatever you want."

Kevin stared at him in disbelief. "That's it?" he asked. "I don't understand. Where's the objective? I want to win; how do I win?"

"Well there's not a lot of winning involved, unless you join a different server. But I don't think you're ready for that. Why don't you just make your own objective?"

"I can't make my own objective; I don't know what to do. There's no purpose!"

"Okay, here, first things first: you've gotta build a fortress. Then you can look for lootsie-doodles."

"Look for what?"

"Lootsie-doodles!"

"I heard you. What the heck are lootsie-doodles?" Kevin felt dumb just saying it.

"That's what some people call 'em. They're anything you can collect by exploring or stealing from someone else. You know, after you kill them."

"I'm not killing anyone and taking their stuff! That's wrong."

"Seriously?" Arnold said. "Wow. Lame."

"I know it's a game, but my character still has principles, Arn."

"Okay, okay, you can just get them by exploring. So then, time to build a fortress. You need wood for that, right? Well, there's a tree right there."

"I don't have an axe. Do I need to find one?"

"Nope. Just gotta punch it."

"Are you serious?" Kevin gave him a doubtful look. "You punch the trees? What the heck is wrong with this game? You're just saying that so I'll look stupid trying, aren't you?"

"No, I mean it. But oh, man, I should've thought of that. I could've have made you look so dumb!"

Kevin doubted Arnold could have come up with anything dumber than the things he already had to do, but he kept quiet and simply hit the tree. Sure enough, his character received a single wood block.

"Awesome," Arnold said. "So now you're gonna—oh, look, a pumpkin pie! Pick it up; your first lootsie-doodle."

"Really? Cool." Kevin grabbed it and then headed toward another player in the distance.

"Buddy, what are you doing? You can't kill him; you don't have any weapons yet."

"I told you, I'm not killing anyone. I'm gonna share my pumpkin pie."

"Wait, for real? No, Kev, we don't share our food in this game. I don't even know if you have the option."

"Why not? I can't eat a whole pie by myself."

"You can in the game. Turn around before he sees you…Kevin, seriously, turn around…for real, right now or—okay, look, now he just killed you and ate your pie."

"Really?" Kevin blinked at the screen in surprise. "Well, that was uncalled for. Did he know I was gonna share it?"

"Probably not, because no one shares their pumpkin pie."

"Well, no one eats a whole darn pie, either. Besides, pumpkin pie is the iconic Thanksgiving dessert, and Thanksgiving is all about being grateful for what you have and sharing it with others."

"Actually, my history teacher said that Thanksgiving was all about the pilgrims taking the natives' food and land and then killing them all. Which is super rude, and exactly what you're supposed to do in this game." At Kevin's dumbfounded expression, Arnold smirked. "Oh, did they not teach you that in your watered-down dual credit history class? Looks like I know more than you. Boom."

"Well, okay, fine, but that's not what Thanksgiving means _**now**_."

"Still doesn't mean people on the Internet share their food."

"All right, fine," Kevin said shortly. "Next Thanksgiving, I'm gonna make a pumpkin pie and refuse to share with anyone. I'll just eat it myself, and then let's see if you feel the same way."

Arnold met his gaze and bit back his grin as he responded. "You do that and I'll kill you and take your pumpkin pie for myself. Just like in _Minecraft_."

Kevin pursed his lips and turned back to the screen. "I can't handle this game," he said as he shoved the computer off to the side. "I'm watching _Finding Nemo _instead."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Again, thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, and/or favorited this story!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Freshman Year, Spring Semester<strong>_

**Chapter 9: Science in My Pants**

"Hi there! Welcome to Starbucks." Kevin gave the customer in front of him his brightest smile. "What can I get you?"

"Yeah, can I get a grande thin mint frappuccino?" she asked.

Inwardly, Kevin sighed. "I'm sorry, we don't have that on our menu," he recited. "But if you tell me what's in it then I can still make it for you."

"No, it's on your secret menu," she insisted. "I saw it on Pinterest."

"They don't teach us how to make anything that isn't on the actual menu. Do you have the recipe?"

"Why would I have the recipe? You're the one who works here."

Now Kevin's smile was starting to falter. "If you really want it, I guess I can try and wing it." It couldn't be that tricky, after all. Probably just a green tea frap with mocha and peppermint.

The girl rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'll just have a vanilla bean frappuccino," she said.

"Great," Kevin said, his teeth gritted behind the smile he was now forcing himself to keep in place. "Can I get your name?"

"Sarah."

Kevin totaled her up, swiped her card, and then, as large and grotesquely as he could manage, scribbled _Cerrruh_ across the front of her cup in bold black ink. "Here you go," he said once the drink was prepared. "Have a fantastic day."

Sarah took one glance at the cup, have him a fierce glare, and simply went on her way.

"Yo." Kevin scowled as he heard the all-too familiar voice of Brynn DeMarco. He looked over to see her standing at the side of the Starbucks counter, tapping her nails against the wood.

"What do you want?" he snapped. "I'm busy."

"Yeah, yeah, the caffeine intake of the whole school rests in your hands, I'm aware," she sighed. "Your half of the thermodynamics write-up. I don't like it; it doesn't mesh with mine."

"I agree," Kevin said. "So change yours. There's nothing wrong with mine."

"Oh, really?" she raised an eyebrow. "Remember our last write-up? Which section had more red marks, again? I'll give you a hint; it wasn't mine."

"Are you going to buy something or not?"

She stared at him for one long moment, the corners of her mouth curling upward in a small, condescending smile. "Tall Pike roast," she said.

"Any milk or cream?" he asked automatically.

"Nope."

"So bitter and scalding, then? Just like you?"

"Oh, you're getting clever, aren't you?."

He ignored her comment, scrawling across the cup and turning toward the coffee maker. When he secured the lid and set it on the counter, Brynn picked it up and frowned.

"Becky?" she read. "Really, is that the best you've got? Not bitch? Hell spawn? Satan's whore?"

"We're not allowed to write profanity," Kevin replied. "Also, I gave you decaf. Deal with it."

"Aww, how cute. Look at you, the badass little barista with zero fucks to give."

"Whatever. Are you ever gonna pay for that?"

"For my worthless decaf coffee? Depends, are you ever gonna ring it up?"

* * *

><p>Connor and Jami stood several yards away from the Starbucks counter, watching Kevin and Brynn bicker. "Are they always like this?" Connor asked.<p>

"They don't even see that we're here," Jami added.

"Right, and Kevin's not paying attention to the other customers. If he gets fired, I don't want to hear him complain."

"I wonder if she secretly likes him."

"Really?" Connor blinked doubtfully. "Is that how she shows affection? How old is she, twelve?"

"Just a thought," she said, shrugging. "You know, they actually have a lot in common."

Connor looked over at her in surprise. "Really? You think so?"

"Well, yeah, they're both overachievers. And they both think they're smarter than everyone else. And neither one originally wanted to go to school here."

"Where did Brynn plan on going? I know Kevin's always carrying on about Georgetown, but I've never—"

"I thought he wanted to go to Bowdoin."

"No, pretty sure it was Georgetown—wait, what the heck is Bowdoin?"

"You know, Bowdoin College?"

"Never heard of it. You sure you're not making it up?"

"No, why would I make up a college?"

Connor grinned. "Okay, where's it at?"

"It's…" she paused. "I don't know. I just know it exists. And to answer your question," she said, digging through her bag for her phone. "Brynn wanted to go to Arizona State. But then her dad died so she stayed closer to home for her mom."

"That's a shame."

"It is. And Bowdoin College is in Maine, asshole."

"Did you just now Google that?"

"Yep." She looked back up at Kevin and Brynn, lips pursed in thought. "We have to do something about those two. I'm tired of hearing them bitch about each other all day."

"What're we supposed to do?"

"Hmm," Jami chewed her bottom lip as she watched the two. "You free for dinner tonight?"

Connor shook his head, "I work at four."

"Damn. Looks like we're going to Olive Garden, then."

* * *

><p><em>Later That Evening<em>

"This is fun!" Arnold said. "Check it out: all of us here, together, for a group dinner! How come we didn't do this sooner?"

"Because Connor's always working," Naba replied, gesturing over to where Connor stood two tables down, refilling an elderly couple's water glasses.

"Tell me about it. Doesn't he know college is for having fun?"

"He needs the money," Kevin answered, his eyes glued to his phone.

"Oh, yeah right! Man, I feel so bad for him. Has he heard anything from his parents at all?"

Chris shook his head. "Nope. Nothing."

"Wait," Jami asked in confusion. "What are you talking about? Connor doesn't talk to his parents?"

"They cut him off after he came out," Chris replied. "It happened while we were in Uganda. He sent them a letter, they told him never to contact him again, and that was it. He's talked to his sisters a couple times, but not much. They're scared his folks'll get mad."

"Wow," Jami absentmindedly gripped her napkin. "He never mentioned that. How awful."

"Yeah, it totally sucks," Arnold said. "Don't say anything, though, he hates it when people bring it—Kevin, is that Canvas? Are you on Canvas?"

Kevin quickly hit the home button. "No," he lied. "I'm sending a text."

"Liar, that was Canvas, I saw it! What did I tell you about doing homework when we're having a fun time?"

"It's not my fault!" Kevin protested. "We had to post in a discussion board, and I just know Brynn's gonna shoot down everything I said. I have to comment back right away or people will think she won."

"Kevin, it's Friday," Naba said. "No one will be checking that tonight."

"Some people might," Chris countered. "They're all a bunch of pre-meds with no lives, remember?"

"Exactly!" Kevin said. "I have to be ready." He stared down at the screen, brow furrowed and eyes focused.

Arnold extended his hand. "Give me the phone, Kev."

"No."

"Give me the cheap plastic iPhone, Kevin."

"Hey," Kevin defensively pulled his white 5c out of Arnold's reach. "There's nothing wrong with my phone. My family has seven lines, we can't all buy huge fancy gold ones like yours."

"Sorry I'm late." Kevin's eyes widened in horror at the sound of the new voice, and he looked up to see Brynn standing by their table, unbuttoning her coat. "Some asshole held me up at the…" she drifted off when she saw Kevin, then swiftly snatched her purse back up. "No. No way in hell," she snapped.

"Brynn, sit down," Jami said.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You didn't tell me _**he**_ would be here."

"Seriously, why the heck is _**she**_ here?" Kevin added, standing up. "If she stays, then I'm gone."

"Neither one of you are going anywhere," Naba replied firmly. "Now both of you, sit your asses down and shut the hell up."

They both slowly took their seats, glaring at each other the whole time.

"Hello, Brynn," Connor chirped as he swiftly made his way over to their table, pen and notepad in hand. "All right, what can I get y'all?"

Kevin stared at him in suspicion. "You waited until she arrived to come over here," he said slowly. "You knew she was coming. You all knew she was coming, and no one warned me."

"That's right, now what do you want to eat?"

Kevin snatched up the menu, took one look at it, and then slapped it back down and fixed Connor with his best death glare. "I want the parmesan shrimp with bowtie pasta instead of ziti, alfredo sauce instead of parmesan but still with the rest of the parmesean stuff, add mushrooms—diced not sliced—and add fresh spinach, finely chopped into really small pieces. Also, only use about three-fourths of the sauce you normally use, and add a dash of melted butter. Have fun with that, jerk."

Connor didn't even bother to write that down. "You're getting the spaghetti," he snapped.

"But I don't want the spaghetti," Kevin countered.

"Well, I don't want to be waiting on your ass, but sometimes life just sucks, doesn't it? What about you, Brynn?"

"Depends." She flipped idly through the menu. "What do you have that isn't pre-packaged and frozen?"

Connor's brow furrowed. "Looks like you're both getting the spaghetti."

"No thanks, I'll take the lasagna. I don't want what _**he's**_ having."

Connor smiled and shook his head at that and moved on to the next person. Once he had everyone's orders, Kevin told him, "Don't expect a tip from me."

"Like you were gonna give me one, anyway," Connor replied, spinning on his heel and starting for the kitchen. When he was gone, Jami cleared her throat.

"Okay, the reason we're all here today is because, Kevin and Brynn, you both mean a lot to us and we all care about—"

"Skip the cheesy intervention intro and cut to the chase," said Brynn.

"Fine. We're all trying to have a good time here and your bickering's getting old. Now both of you move past it or find a new set of friends."

"Wait, you're threatening to kick me out? But I did nothing wrong!" Kevin said.

"What do you mean you did nothing wrong?" Brynn asked. "You're the cause of all this."

"Excuse me, I'm not the one constantly insulting everyone around me. What's wrong with you, anyway? You've been rude to me since the day we met; what did I ever do to you?"

"What did you ever do to me? I don't know, maybe it's your constant sub-par academic performance, maybe it's your whiny little bitch voice or your sick fascination with children's theme parks or that horrifying smile you always have plastered over your face. Hell, maybe it's all of those things. Who knows?" she shrugged and took a sip of her water.

"People _**love**_ my smile," Kevin protested. "My dentist says I have a face made for Crest advertising."

"Honey, you look like you just came from a botched colonoscopy and the camera got lost up in there."

"Oh really?" Kevin's voice was borderline shrilly now. "See, see, is what I'm talking about! You say these things—make these weird comparisons—and, and I don't even know what they mean! What _**was**_ that, what are you saying?"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Jami cut in. "Brynn, don't you think you're being a little too hard on Kevin?"

"She is!" Kevin said. "She's been a condescending know-it-all since the minute we started working together."

"I don't know," Chris added. "I've worked with you before, Kevin. I have a hard time believing you _**both**_ weren't condescending know-it-alls."

"Not helping, Poptarts," Jami said. "By the way, why do everyone call you Poptarts, exactly?"

"Because I like Poptarts."

"Oh, hey, that makes sense."

"Back to the subject," Naba said after swallowing a bite of her salad. "Kevin, Brynn, I think you both could be more polite to each other. The purpose of this dinner was to put aside your differences and move on."

"I am not moving on," Kevin snapped. "She insulted my smile and I hate her. _**And**_," he turned to Brynn and scowled. "I'm tired of you calling me stupid. I was valedictorian of my class. I got a 34 on the ACT. I became an Eagle Scout before anyone else in my grade, and I even took on the hardest project. I built a dog park! Everyone else just put up benches and easy crap like that. And that's not even counting all the great ideas I had in Uganda."

"Like converting the General all on your own?" Chris asked.

"No, not like converting the General all on my own, Poptarts," Kevin sneered. "Like the well and the medicine grant. Everyone says the grant was Connor's idea, but we came up with it together, I swear."

Before Brynn could respond, Connor appeared with their plates. "Dinner's served," he said cheerfully. "Lasagna for Brynn, fettuccini alfredo for Jami, shrimp talapia for Poptarts, Naba's ravioli portobello, five-cheese ziti for Arnold, and for Kevin, parmesan shrimp with three-fourths alfredo, bowtie pasta, add diced mushrooms, diced spinach, and butter. That's right, I remembered the whole thing. It's cute you think that's the most complicated order I've ever had. Now eat every damn bite." He looked up at the rest of the table and added, "Let me know if you all need anything else!"

"He's a genius," Arnold said in awe as Connor went on his way. "I want to _**be**_ him."

"Brynn, I'm just going to come right out and say it," Jami stated. "Do you think it's possible you have a tiny crush on Kevin?"

Realization dawned on Kevin's face, and he glanced over at Brynn smugly. For a moment, Brynn simply looked at Jami in confusion. Then she laughed.

"Jami, come on, that's fucking crazy," she said. "There's no way I'd be into Kevin; I'm not even convinced he has anything down there. I'm willing to bet if he drops his basic-ass khakis, there's nothing but a gaping black hole that sucks your soul out like a dementor and transports it straight to church."

The smug look promptly fell off of Kevin's face, and he willed the redness forming in his cheeks to disappear. "I do not have a black hole in my pants," he said. It was only when the words were out of his mouth that he realized how stupid they sounded.

"Yeah, come on, get real," Arnold added. "Black holes don't necessarily transport things; haven't you ever seen _Stargate_? You're thinking of a wormhole. Kevin's got a wormhole in his pants."

"Stop talking about my anatomy!" Kevin shrieked, and he pointedly ignored the elderly couple with their grandkids giving him dirty looks two tables over. "You know what, Brynn? Since you love insulting people so much, let me tell you what I think. You're a lewd, malicious little girl, _**and**_ you're really promiscuous. So there."

"Hey now, that was really hurtful," she said, dripping with sarcasm. "Are you serious? Come on, just call me a bitch and a slut. I'm helping you out here, it's a lot more effective."

"No. Sister Kimbay says those terms are degrading to women, and I don't want to degrade all women, just you."

"Isn't using promiscuity as an insult degrading to women anyway?" Naba asked.

"No, its bad for anyone to be overly promiscuous," Kevin defended. "That's how diseases are spread and unwanted babies are made."

Brynn snorted. "You're such a damn goody-two-shoes. Bet mommy and daddy love that, huh?"

"What, now you're trashing me because my family raised me right? Maybe if you had parents like mine, you wouldn't be such a shrew."

Kevin's words finally had some impact, and Brynn scowled. "Say what you want about me, but don't you dare go after my parents," she snarled. "At least I don't have to cower down to mine."

"And I don't have to cower down to mine, either."

"Bullshit. That's all you ever do. You didn't go to Weber State out of some choice to respect them on your own. You did it because you were scared, and you still are."

Kevin sputtered for a second before standing up. "Arnold, have Jami drive you home," he snapped, dropping his napkin onto the table. "I don't have to sit here and take this. I'm leaving."

"Oh, look, we finally have something in common," Brynn said. They slapped some money down in unison and headed toward opposite entrances.

The others sat around the table silently, not sure how to break the tension, until finally Arnold reached over and scooped up a bite of Kevin's shrimp. "I'm guessing he doesn't want this," he said.

"Well, that didn't go as well as I'd hoped," Jami lamented.

At that point, Connor approached empty handed and without his apron. "Okay, I've got a ten-minute break," he said, to which Jami gestured at the empty seats.

"You're too late."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Freshman Year, Spring Semester**_

**Chapter 10: Inadvertent Double Date Night**

Connor intended to spend the last precious minutes before American Government reviewing notes for the quiz they were about to take, but he was interrupted by a pleasant voice and a smile.

"Ready for the weekend?" The intruder asked, casually flopping down in the seat next to his.

Matt Warrenton was a communication major, a social justice advocate, and the most outspoken in person in the class. Opinionated and quick to challenge, there were always a few eye rolls throughout the room whenever his hand shot up in the air. Connor wasn't really sure how the two became friends; he just happened to be sitting next to Matt one day and they clicked. As they sat side by side now, Connor thought back to the last time Naba visited, after the three of them ate lunch while Kevin and Arnold were at work.

"He _**likes**_ you," she'd said once Matt had taken his leave, clapping her hands together and giggling in excitement.

"Just because he's gay doesn't mean he likes me," Connor had replied.

"I know that, silly! But he still likes you. Don't you notice the way he's always smiling at you? And finding excuses to touch you? That's what people do when they're interested."

"You really think he feels that way?" Connor asked doubtfully.

"Of course he does. Now the real question: how do you feel about him? If you're interested, then go for it! You need to put yourself out there; come out of your shell."

Watching him now out of the corner of his eye, Connor couldn't help but wonder. Attractive, smart, and passionate about worthwhile causes, Matt certainly wasn't anything to look down upon. But did Connor want to date him? It was hard to tell. He'd never had a boyfriend before—or a girlfriend, or anyone even interested in him, as far as he knew—and this was all new territory. How did he know he wanted someone? Wasn't there supposed to a spark, or butterflies, or a message in the sky or something?

_You knew with Kevin_, a voice in the back of his mind argued. But Connor knew exactly what Naba would say to that: forget about Kevin. Kevin wasn't interested, and it was time to move forward. So even if—

"You never answered my question," Matt pulled Connor out of his reverie, a small smile on his face as he paged through his notes. "You didn't answer my question, and now you're staring."

Connor quickly averted his eyes down to his own notes. "Well, that's because you interrupted my studying," he said. "Completely rude, by the way."

"So you decided to make me as uncomfortable as possible in return?"

"That's exactly what I did."

"Fair enough," Matt laughed, and maybe it was a desperation to move on, or maybe Connor was just thrilled to finally have an admirer, or heck, maybe he really did have feelings for Matt hidden somewhere, but with class starting in two minutes, Connor decided it was now or never.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asked. Hey, at least if Naba was wrong and he was horribly rejected, he'd have a nice distraction in the form of a quiz he wasn't prepared for soon enough.

"Tonight?" Matt shrugged. "There's a new_ Game of Thrones _episode I need to catch up on. And I'm running low on snacks, gotta make a run to the store sometime this weekend. But not tonight, because I'm having dinner with you."

Connor's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, are you?"

"Well, yeah, since you were obviously gonna ask," Matt replied with a smirk.

"No I wasn't, you don't know that."

"Yes, you definitely were."

"No, really. Maybe I was gonna ask you to do my laundry or something."

Matt's smirk only grew wider. "Are we sharing household chores now? This is moving a little fast for me."

"Shut up," Connor laughed, giving him a shove. Matt chuckled at that and then relented.

"Okay, for real," he said. "Does 6:30 work for you?"

"Perfect," Connor replied, and even when the professor entered the room and swiftly passed out a quiz that Connor was far less ready for than he expected, he still couldn't shake the smile from his face.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kev, pal, wanna start <em>Firefly<em> with me tonight?" Arnold asked. "I'm telling you, you've gotta watch that show!"

"Can't tonight, sorry." Kevin said as he folded various pieces of clean laundry. "I've got a date."

This caused Arnold to look up from his laptop. "Really, a date? With a girl?"

"Yes, with a girl," Kevin laughed. "What'd you think I'd be going on a date with, a gnome?"

_A boy, maybe_, Arnold thought. _Specifically Connor McKinley_. "I don't know," he answered instead. "I didn't think you dated."

"I did in high school." Kevin folded the last of his jeans and placed them neatly in the dresser. "My girlfriend Kimberly and I were voted both cutest couple _**and **_prom king and queen." He grinned proudly at this, and Arnold suppressed an eye roll at the vanity of Kevin's glory days that arose every so often.

"So what happened to her, then?" Arnold asked, and Kevin simply shrugged.

"She went to BYU and I started prepping for my mission. We remained friends and talked about getting back together after I returned but…well, that was before Uganda."

"Huh. So who's this girl you're going on a date with?" Arnold leaned forward conspiratorially. "Is she cute?"

"She is," Kevin replied. "Her name's Julia and she's in my bio class. I think she's been into me for a while, and the other day we got paired on a group project. So we started talking and, well, we're having dinner tonight."

"That's awesome," Arnold said. "Now you're gonna have a girlfriend just like I have a girlfriend!"

"Whoa, calm down, buddy," Kevin said. "It's just dinner."

"Still, though. I'm happy for you." Even if he was confused. Kevin wouldn't have kissed Connor in Uganda if he was into girls, right? Sure, he was drunk, and based on the way he acted afterward, he wasn't happy about what he'd done. But even so, it was still an indication of his preferences.

_Maybe he's bi_, Arnold thought. That was definitely possible. But that didn't answer everything either, because if Kevin made out with Connor then he liked _**him**_, not this Julia girl. Of course, Kevin didn't know Julia back then, so maybe now that he'd met her he decided he liked her better?

Arnold shook his head to clear out the convoluted mess of thoughts and simply went back to his online forum. People were confusing. He was glad he only liked Naba and she liked him back. It was so much easier that way.

* * *

><p><em>Later That Evening<em>

The steakhouse Kevin selected was certainly nice, cozy and dimly lit enough to be comfortable. In between bites of sirloin he chatted animatedly with Julia about every safe subject he could think of, from school and family to books, television, and the greatness that is Orlando, Florida

"So, do you have any pets?" he asked after a bit. "Are you a dog person or a cat person? Please tell me you're not a cat person."

Julia laughed and then pursed her lips in thought. "Hmm, that's a tough one. I like the idea of dogs, but they need so much exercise, so…"she trailed off and laughed. "I have a betta fish, does that count?"

"What do you do with a betta fish? Those are the ones with the fancy tails, right?"

"Yep, that's them. And you don't do anything, really; they just swim around and look pretty."

Kevin supposed this was the part where he was supposed to smile and nod politely, maybe tell her how much he adored his family's two labs, Milo and Maggie. But a distinct laugh from the other side of the room caught his attention, and he looked up to see Connor sitting several tables down, across from a boy Kevin didn't recognize. They appeared to be enjoying themselves; even from this distance Kevin detected the mischievous gleam in Connor's eye, and he couldn't stand it. He knew that look. That was the one Connor gave him just before they'd kissed—

Whoa. Stop. He was _**not**_ supposed to think about that night.

What did it matter if Connor was on a date? After all, that's exactly where Kevin was right now. It's not like he was jealous. In fact, this was great; it showed that Connor wasn't still pining for Kevin or anything crazy like that. He'd moved on, just like Kevin had, and now they could officially put that unspeakable night behind them. Perfect.

So really, it was no big deal that Connor was offering that jerk a bite of chicken off his own fork—that jerk who, by the way, was nowhere near as handsome as Kevin himself and probably didn't—

"Kevin?" Julia's voice snapped him back into focus. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" He said quickly, keeping his eyes trained directly on her and _**not**_ at the table across the room. "Yeah, I uh, got distracted—lots of projects coming up, right? I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"My fish tank," she clarified. "I said he's in a one-gallon now, but I'm thinking about getting him a 2 gallon."

Connor laughed again, and it took all of Kevin's effort not to scowl. _Focus_, he told himself. _Don't think about him. Think about this perfectly nice girl sitting in front of you_. "Do it," he said. "He needs room to swim."

"Right," Julia said. She folded up her napkin next to her now empty plate, and leaned back in her seat. "So what's the plan for tonight?"

"I don't know." Kevin set his own napkin on the table as well. He still had a few bites left, but he'd lost his appetite. "Do you want to see a movie?"

She smiled suggestively. "Not feeling up to the crowds," she said. "Your place or mine? You live in the dorms, right? Probably better to go to mine."

He faced her in confusion. "So…I guess we're getting a RedBox?"

"I'm gonna have to spell this out for you, aren't I?" Julia sighed. "Are we having sex or not?"

Kevin started at her, dumbstruck, for one long moment. "Oh," he said finally. "Oh, dear. Um…" He hadn't expected that. Why hadn't he expected that? He'd known Julia wasn't Mormon—wasn't religious in particular—and really, he wasn't either. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Connor stand up with his date, bid farewell to their server, and head toward the door. Would it be wrong if he slept with Julia? It's not like he actually believed in any of that purity crap anymore. Safety was the biggest issue here, so as long as they were careful and used protection there shouldn't be a problem, right?

Still, though, the sheer terror he felt now was probably proof that he wasn't ready. One thing was for certain, he wouldn't be losing his virginity tonight. "Julia," he began. "I can't. I think you're great, really. And I'm happy you're so comfortable with yourself, but I'm not sleeping with anyone on the first date. Maybe not until I'm married, I don't know. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Don't be sorry," she said. "I get it. You've gotta do what's right for you."

Kevin let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said. "I thought you'd—"

"How was everything, folks?" Kevin was cut off by the waiter scooping up their plates. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Just the check, please," Julia said. "Also, do you want to have sex tonight?"

Kevin's jaw dropped, while the server looked between the two of them quizzically. "With you?" He asked.

"Yeah, with me," she replied. "Don't worry about him; he's cool."

The waiter shrugged. "Sure. My shift ends in fifteen."

"Awesome, see you then," Julia said, and Kevin simply stared. "Come on, don't look at me like that," she told him once the server had carried away their plates. "You've gotta do what's right for you, and I need to do what's right for me. I don't do long-term relationships, and I don't do waiting. Plus, I definitely intended to get laid tonight. I'll pay for dinner, if that helps."

Kevin knew he should probably respond, but he was still trying to make sense of what had occurred. Had he just been dumped before they'd even received the check? Did she honestly think saving him a few bucks would make it all better? And what kind of server agrees to sleep with their customers while on the clock, anyway?

He stood up abruptly. "I have to go," he said.

* * *

><p>Arnold had just been wondering how Kevin's date was going when his companion-turned-roommate stormed into the room, a pint of Ben and Jerry's Half-Baked in hand, and headed straight for his Disney shelf. He stood there silently, tapping his spoon against his chin and glaring at the titles.<p>

"I really need to come up with a better way of organizing these," he snapped. "Right now they're alphabetical, but really they should be 'movies where the couple lives happily ever after' and 'movies that _**don't**_ make me want to gouge my eyes out.'"

Oh. So it didn't go well. "What happened?"

"She dumped me over dinner, that's what happened!" Kevin snatched up four movies—_Brave_, _Lilo and Stitch_, _Monsters Inc_, and the first _Toy Story_—and held them out. "Which one?"

"You know you're just gonna pick _Lilo and Stitch_. It's your favorite; you cry every time you watch it."

"It is my favorite," Kevin agreed, tossing the others back onto the shelf. "Well anyway, Julia said she wanted to sleep with me, I said I wasn't ready for that, and then she ditched me for the waiter. Seriously, she asked him over to her place, right in front of me, while he was collecting our plates. And he agreed! Right in front of me!"

_Aww, poor Kevin_. Arnold figured he should offer some sort of condolences right away, but Kevin was opening up the carton of dairy goodness so he decided it could wait until he found a spoon for himself. He stole one from Kevin's small stash of college-essential-cutlery, and Kevin scowled.

"I didn't buy this ice cream for us both," he snapped. "Maybe I want to eat it all and wallow in my misery."

"Sharing is caring," Arnold said, scooping out a large bite. "And man, that really sucks about tonight! But I thought you said it was just dinner. So at least you weren't in love with her or anything."

"That's true, but it's the principle of the matter. I've never been so humiliated in my life." Kevin readied the movie and took a seat next to Arnold on his bed.

"Not even when you had to ask Gotswana to remove a book from your butt?"

"Stop bringing that up. And that doesn't count; it's a whole separate entity in and of itself."

"Oh. Well, you'll find someone else. Someone better!"

A rare flash of self-doubt crossed Kevin's features. "Will I, though?" He said. "You know, this never would've happened before my mission. Do you have any idea how many girls wanted to date me in high school? Now Mormons think I'm a heathen and everyone else thinks I'm weirdly religious. I can't win!"

"So, what are you trying to say? Do you wish you hadn't gone to Uganda?"

"No, not at all," Kevin quickly clarified. "Goodness knows, that's the best thing I've ever done. It's just…do you think maybe I should've just slept with her? Would it really have been that big a deal?"

"Yeah, it would have been a huge deal!" Arnold said. "Because you didn't want to. So you wouldn't have been true to yourself. And being true to yourself is the most important thing ever! Really, it is. It's very important that you be true to yourself in _**every**_ way. Like, _**super**_ important." Arnold figured Kevin needed to grasp that concept given recent events, so he placed a lot of emphasis on his statement. But he might have overdone it, because now his friend was giving him a funny look.

"Okay," Kevin replied slowly.

"What's this all about, anyway?" Arnold asked. "I know you're not this upset just because you struck out with one girl."

Kevin considered his answer to Arnold's question very carefully. "I just…" He began. Why _**was**_ he so upset? Did he even know?

_Because this is just one more reminder of how much I've changed. Because I don't know where I stand anymore. Because apparently Connor dates now, and I hate that it bothers me so much._

"I just don't like being rejected," he finally finished.

Arnold didn't say anything for a moment; he merely wrapped his arms around Kevin and hugged him from the side.

"Don't be sad," he finally stated. "There's lots of people out there, religious or not, who'd love everything about you and want more than just a hookup. But you know what? You don't have to be in a rush to find them, because you're already awesome all by yourself! You're super smart, and you're gonna do a ton of great stuff. So don't worry about dating someone unless you're totally into them."

Kevin couldn't help but be warmed by Arnold's words. "When did you get so wise?" He said, leaning his head on Arnold's shoulders. "No wonder we always called you our prophet."

"Well, duh. 'Cause I'm awesome."

Kevin laughed, then hit play on the remote. "Here," he said as he reached over for the ice cream container on his desk. "Finish this with me."

They watched the movie and took turns scooping out bites of ice cream, and while Kevin was reassured by Arnold's words, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with him. And if he could just reach inside himself, dig out whatever it was, and make a few small adjustments, then he would finally be perfect.

* * *

><p><em>The Next Morning<em>

Naba headed straight to Connor's room the minute she arrived on campus mid-morning, knocking on his door and entering as soon as she heard him say to come in.

"How was your date?" she asked, grinning suggestively.

Connor was sitting on his bed, idly flipping through a magazine. "It went well," he replied. "We went to a little steakhouse nearby, nothing special."

She sighed in exasperation and flopped down across from him. "But what did you think?" She prodded. "Was he everything you imagined? Are you seeing him again?"

That question gave Connor pause. "I'm…well, I'm not sure," he said, flipping the magazine shut. "He's great. Really, he is. And once we went back to his place—"

"Wait, wait," Naba cut him off. "You went home with him? Did you…" The look on his face told her everything she needed to know, and her eyes widened. "Are you fucking with me? Connor!"

"What? You're the one who told me to get out of my shell."

"I meant ease your way out bit by bit, not punch right through it!"

"Oh, well, where's the fun in that?"

Naba laughed and shook her head. "I can't believe you had sex on the first ever date you've ever had," she said.

"Stop that." Connor suddenly felt self-conscious. "You're judging me, aren't you?"

"No, no, I just never expected that from you. So, how was it?"

He shrugged, somewhat at a loss for words. "It was good," he said. "To be honest, I had no clue what I was doing. And now that it's over, I'm not sure what all the hype is about."

Maybe he felt that way because it didn't mean anything. He wasn't in love, and Matt wasn't Kevin. But there was no way he was going to say that aloud. He didn't have to, though; Naba simply knew.

"Next time will be better," she said. "It'll be with someone special."

Though the idealist in him knew she was right, the realist wondered just how long it would take.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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